Anniba! a 'Hannibal Rising' Variation
by MajorBachman
Summary: Hannibal's childhood, following the trilogy-canon, where Hannibal's quest for revenge leaves him a bit unfulfilled. Characters are not owned by me. Just had some fun with them.
1. Chapter 1

**'Anniba!'**

A 'Hannibal Rising' Variation

_"Nothing happened to me, Officer Starling. I happened"_

**PART 1**

**LITHUANIA**

**Chapter 1**

Count Giedrius Lecter looked at his wife and smiled.  
"A new generation Lecter family," he said, kissing his wife's hand as intimately as circumstances allowed. The town-doctor could not help but smile – inwardly of-course, he would not dare being too familiar with the good Count – and added instead a few words of comfort while he quickly packed his bag.  
"Madame appears to be in perfect health. I think we can expect a perfectly healthy baby in January."  
"Thank you, doctor," she said.  
"Thank you, Madame. Please, do not hesitate to call upon me if there is anything. Or even if there is nothing. Madame. Count."  
Politely, the doctor bowed and took his leave.  
Simonetta held the Giedrius' face, held his temples in her hands, turned his face and looked into his pale blue eyes.  
"Simonetta," whispered Giedrius, feeling as if his heart was burning.  
"Giedrius," she replied and brought his face close enough to hers to share a breath.

Giedraičiai Castle, built in 1410, home for the Lecter family for thirteen generations now and with the fourteenth generation on its way, had seen many wars, leaders and armies, but the Castle had managed to survive those battles unscathed. Alas, in 1809, a careless servant that tried to light a hearth, managed to burn down the Castle. Count Juozapas Lecter - who had recently married the only heir of the Giedraičiai family, a maiden named Marija - had the Castle rebuilt in Classicism style, on the stone foundation of the Castle that remained after the fire. Unfortunately, the design did not match with the existing lay-out of the foundation; it was simply built upon it. Incompatibility problems were solved on the fly, creating unexpected stairs, doors and steps, causing many a servant to trip while visiting the cool storage rooms. Compared to the dark and complex basement, with its many hidden, faraway rooms, wells and other secrets, the Castle itself was luxurious, bright, almost simple, but above all a real pleasing home.

After Juozapas' death in 1838, according to his wishes, his heart was immured into one of the Castle's walls. Count Giedrius Lecter had also lost his heart to the Castle. In his youth, not yet Count, he had spent a lot of time abroad. But every night, as he lay down to go to sleep, as his mind wandered of along the paths of real and imagined explores, Giedraičiai Castle had entered his thought sometime, somehow. No, he was not homesick. He had fully lived those days away from home. He had seen many things, he had met the most interesting persons and had the most wonderful encounters and adventures. He had even met Simonetta Sforza, descendant of old and once powerful families: the Visconti and Sforza families of Milan. But not even she had managed to keep him away from Giedraičiai Castle. On the contrary: she had followed him to his home in cold Lithuania, opposite the town of Giedraičiai on the other side of Lake Kiementas, far from her own Palazzo in warm Milan.

Giedrius - Count Lecter by the time he took her along with him - could not have done more to make her feel at home. First, he insisted she should take with her all she wanted. Being of so noble and old a family, she could have wanted a lot, but she decided to take only what she thought to be the essence. Her father and mother denied her none of the art she wanted to take along, mainly because she took, first of all, a tapestry with the coat of arms of the Sforza of Milan. It depicts the _biscione_, a serpent who is swallowing a human, but some believe it is a serpent giving birth to a child. And there were paintings she asked for. A small painting of Venice. Guardi's "View of Santa Maria della Salute", both Bernardo Bellotto's and Canaletto's "The bridge of sighs", and more. Sketches. Sculptures. Books. And finally, she asked for her room. So, every carved wooden panel was detached, every cupboard was deconstructed, all was carefully packed, shipped and finally refitted in her room at the Castle. Secondly, Count Lecter ordered all at his Giedraičiai Castle that every wish Madame would ever have, had to be fulfilled, every command had to be followed. But it turned out he need not have been that strict in his instructions. Simonetta was a gentle woman. Once her room was rebuilt and her belongings were in place, she had travelled the miles between Milan and Giedraičiai and took her place with ease. She brought grace and elegance into Giedraičiai Castle and she requested only minimal – just enough to make clear what had to be done. The hostler, Berndt, found her to be the perfect mistress, houseman Lothar could not have agreed more.

All of Madame's belongings found their place among the many artifacts in the Castle. Each member of the family had added his or her own portrait and personal belongings. Walking through the Castle was a walk through more than five hundred years of Giedraičiai history. In the halls were armours, dented and rusty, that had been worn by the Counts in battle. Some armours would tell you how the man inside had died. On the walls, both in the halls and rooms, were all sorts of weapons. Battle swords that had slain Teutonic Knights. Daggers, halberds, lances and shields. The Giedraičiai and Lecter families had seen many battles.

But, in the years between the fighting, they had also bought art. Firstly, they had themselves portrayed, so that posterity would not forget them. Paintings. Walking through the rooms in the right order, one could see how art had developed in time. As all Counts had found their art most pleasing, so did Giedrius. First time he had seen the impressionist paintings, painted only years before he was born, or the same year he had been born, gave him an extra-sensory feeling. Dabs and streaks of paint on canvas, that only showed that paint was applied, would unleash a world of joy and detail once the observer took back a few steps and let his imagination do the rest. He had bought quite a few of them. Part of their beauty, for him, lay in the fact that they reminded him of his time spent in France. Simonetta's Classical Italian art made up for the lack of contemporary Italian art – he had not thought of buying one single painting while in Italy.

After they had shared a breath, she let him go. Giedrius sat down in the chair besides the bed and looked into his wife's bright maroon eyes that were still focused upon his. She looked upon him with eyes full of such Divine sparks of love, his conquered strength fled away and he almost lost himself, with eyes cast down.  
As happened more often, they just sat and looked at each other, not saying what not needed to be said. And each time, a certain point in time would be reached where words of love were no longer needed, and the silence could and would be broken without compromising the feeling.  
"I hope it will be a boy," said Simonetta.


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter 2**

Simonetta's prayers were heard. After a night of labour, in the pale morning light of a black winter day, she heard the midwife that had assisted her tell her that she had given birth to a boy. What she did not see was that the midwife had crossed herself when she had had a good look at the newborn and had seen the six fingers on his left hand.  
"He looks healthy, Madame, and he breathes just fine, even though he did not cry. But shall I call for the doctor? It would be best to have him check the young Master, just to be sure."  
"Yes, that will be fine. Are you ready? Please give him to me. And have someone call the Count."  
"Yes, Madame."  
She placed the baby, all swaddled up, on his mother's chest, washed her hands once more and went out the door.  
"_Laimas māte_," mumbled the midwife then, unwittingly relapsing into the pagan pantheon of her youth, when she had resided at her grandmother Ragana's house, "I do not know why you have chosen this fate for this family, for the child is not lucky. I beg you to turn their fate and bring luck to the Count and Madame. Oh, how heavy these stairs are for my knees! I can't understand the pain in my bones. If only Madame's bedroom had been a floor lower. Yes, better unborn. It would have been better had this child not been born. Ah, here we are."  
She puffed from walking down the stairs, almost sounding like a steam train going up a hill, opened the door and sat herself on the nearest chair.  
"It's a boy," she said, still panting, to the present staff of the house that was eagerly waiting. And this message would normally have brought a lot of joy, but the expression on her face warned everybody that more was coming.  
"He has six fingers on his left hand! That's not a good sign – but that's all I'm going to tell you."  
"Ha! Now that's just perfect! An old woman sees a child with six fingers and she completely forgets her manners and her place! Is it a boy? Is he healthy? Then there's nothing the matter," reprimanded Lothar.  
"No, no, it's not old woman's babble! I'm telling you – he's not normal. And it's not just that sixth finger – you should see his eyes! And he did not cry once! I'm telling you, he's not normal."  
"In a few moments, you'll be telling everybody he's a Kauka!" laughed Lothar.  
"Well, old woman, is that all you came to tell us?" asked Ernst, the gardener.  
"No, but if he keeps on making fun of me, I will say no more now. Ha! No, Madame sent me to have someone call the Count. But we will wait a few years, we'll see if I was right! This child brings bad luck, I tell you! Believe me or not."  
"I will get him," said Lothar, "Then I won't have to endure any more Grass Snake stories."  
Lothar rose and left, the midwife following him with her angry eyes until he had left the room and closed the door.  
"Psah! He does not know what he is talking about! Well, if someone could please call the doctor, so that _he_ can come and check if the child is fine. And can I have something to drink now?"  
The old woman crossed her arms, and looked peevish. Yet, some of the servants were too curious to let her sit in silence.  
"Six fingers? Imagine!"  
"Yes, and not crying! How strange."  
"Every child cries, how is it possible he did not? But he does breathe?"  
"Yes," said the midwife, "it was very strange. As soon as I held him in my arms, he opened his eyes, and it was as if he was... I do not know how to say it... as if he was _probing_ me. Or maybe I should say _evaluating_. But, no, he did not cry, but I clearly saw him breathing just fine, so I thought nothing more of it. But then I saw his hand... No, it was then that I saw what he was..." and with a bitter smile she looked at the others. Nobody dared to speak.

"Mid ray duplication polydactyly," said the town-doctor, "I had to look it up in my books, it is the rarest form of finger duplication. But, no worry, this extra middle finger appears to be no problem for him: I have seen him use it and bend it just as the other fingers. And for the rest, the boy is in perfect health. I congratulate you both, Count, Madame, with your heir."  
"Thank you, _gydytojas_," said Madame.  
"Yes, thank you, doctor," said the Count, "Berndt, please escort the doctor on his way out."  
"Yes, Count. Please follow me, doctor."  
The doctor bowed politely and silently followed Berndt.  
"He really is in perfect health. Look how he sleeps!" Giedrius said while looking at his son. Then he took Simonetta's hand.  
"Sleep? No, he is awake, he just opened his eyes!" Simonetta replied. Giedrius turned his head back to his son and saw him, indeed, awake.  
"I really thought he was asleep."  
"I think he _was_, too."  
"He has you color of eyes, Simonetta."  
"Yes, for now, but you can never be sure what color they might become. The color is not fixed until after a year."  
"It would be nice if they remained this color. Your color."  
"It would be better if he had all of _our_ good qualities."  
"Let's hope he turns out to be an honest person. That's what I find most important," stated Giedrius.  
A silence followed, then the baby cried shortly. Giedrius turned his head towards the child. It looked at them with his eyes wide open, as if observing them.  
"What's the matter, my son?" asked Giedrius.  
Simonetta smiled. "Do you expect him to answer?"  
"Eh, well now, I must say he looks clever enough!"  
"I'm sure he was trying to tell us it is time to feed."  
"Well, I suppose that must be so. Hey, look, he smiled! He really smiled, Simonetta! And I saw he already has one tooth. One little white tooth."  
"Giedrius, you haven't told me how you are going to name him," Simonetta said, picking up the child.  
"Haven't I?" Giedrius answered, sounding a bit frolicsome. "Well then. In remembrance of one of the most famous generals to attack Rome successfully, I had planned on naming him Hannibal."


	3. Chapter 3

_Note: this chapter does not use Single Line Breaks, unlike the previous two.  
I prefer SLB's, it shows the paragraphs better, but I was adviced to try the non-SLB format.  
Please tell me which has your preference, my dearest reader._

**Chapter 3**

"Now, you silly woman, stop stuffing our ears with all this talk, and be on your way," said the nurse smiling, but seriously. She had only been ten minutes in the room, but she found the midwife very annoying, at some moments even irritating. It was the midwife's duty to tell her about the child's welfare, and she had, but the secondary information she had also eagerly shared, had annoyed her profoundly. She wanted to release not just herself, but everybody of the midwife's presence, so she had resolved to being a bit harsh.

"Silly woman? No, not silly. I speak of ancient wisdom!"

"Old woman's babbling, you mean. Be on your way," said Nurse, waving the midwife away with her hand, not looking at her. The midwife, her cheeks mottled with pink, rose with a lot of groaning from her chair.

"We'll see who is right," she muttered and left.

When she was gone, Nurse addressed the rest of the servants sternly.

"All children are children. They are not gnomes, trolls, demons, devils or whatever, not while I'm around. Now, does Madame know I have arrived?"

"Yes," said Lothar, "she asked me to show you your room and then introduce you. And please, do not rush. Madame wants you to feel at home, just like all of us. 'First things first', she said to me. You'll find her a very amiable mistress."

.

"The government has accepted the ultimatum, unconditionally," said Giedrius to his wife.

"It was to be expected. Did they have any choice?"

"There's always a choice, Simonetta."

"Yes, there is always a choice. But some choices are not an options, depending on circumstances and priorities. You would have preferred to turn down the ultimatum and face the Soviet troops? Not only the twenty thousand already stationed in Lithuania, but also the troops that would come to their aid? The result would have been the same – Soviet domination. You know our soldiers would have been slaughtered."

"Signing the Soviet-Lithuanian Mutual Assistance Treaty last year was a mistake. Yes, we got Vilnius, but we agreed to station up to twenty thousand soldiers 'to protect us from the Nazi's'. And now it's these soldiers that forced us to accept this ultimatum."

"Giedrius, maybe the Treaty was the first step in the plan for Soviet occupation of Lithuania. But it was a Treaty; our government signed it. This time, it was an ultimatum. Nothing the Soviets will say or do will change that. The fact that it was an ultimatum is enough to show the world that it is unjust. But by accepting it, we have saved a lot of lives that otherwise would have been wasted."

"Yes, but what have we gained by accepting? We have accepted an unspecified number of Soviet soldiers in our land and the formation of a pro-Soviet government! We have given up our own identity. We have given them carte blanche to do as they please."

Simonetta took his hands.

"Perhaps. But the fact is that the government _has_ accepted the ultimatum," she said.

"Yes, that's true. But I will not accept any domination of Lithuania. I will do all I can to free my country from any foreign interference."

"And I support you completely. But we have to choose the best option. I believe we can achieve more for Lithuanian freedom if we support others in the battle, and not fight ourselves. We have the means, let's use them."

Giedrius kissed his wife's hands and smiled.

"I'll contact our friends."

A knock on the door announced that the nurse had finished unpacking. Giedrius rose and opened the door. He saw Lothar and the nurse, stepped aside and motioned them inside with a gallant motion.

"If you will excuse me, I have matters to attend to," he said. He bowed and took his leave.

The nurse, unaccustomed to affable employers, forgot to greet him as he left the room.

"I hope your room is sufficient?"

"Yes, Madame, it is."

"Lothar, could you get us something to drink? Some tea, perhaps?" asked Simonetta and looked at the nurse, who nodded her head to accept the offer.

"Yes, Madame," answered Lothar, and withdrew.

"The Count and I find it our obligation to provide our personnel with whatever they need to live and function as good as possible. I'm sure you would claim you need nothing if I asked now, but keep it in mind, please. Because, the moment you feel you are in need of something, you will remember my words, and act upon them."

"Yes, Madame."

"How was your journey?"

"It was fine, thank you."

Simonetta tried to engage the nurse in a conversation. But Nurse, unaccustomed to having her employers for company, had a hard time shaking off her restrictions. After a while, she succeeded - partly anyway - and warmed to Madame. All new members of staff had. Simonetta was indeed, as Lothar had stated, a very amiable mistress.


	4. Chapter 4

**Chapter 4**

Giedrius Lecter was sitting in his old leather armchair, delighting in the feel of the well-worn springs and leather, accustomed to his weight and posture. By his side, the Count's pinto-colored Akita. On his lap, he had a leather-backed book. On the side-table a penknife, which the Count had bought finding that some of the books Simonetta had brought with her, had not been read yet. He enjoyed the silence of the library. He had shut the door an hour ago, and had heard nothing from anybody since. Which was nice. Now he was completely submerged in wonderful Suetonius' _De vita Caesarum_. He had just finished D. Octavius Caesar Augustus's chapter, and had just started on Tiberius Nero Caesar.

He did not hear the door open. He did not hear little Hannibal, twenty months old, entering the room. So he startled when the little boy stopped beside him.

"What is that?" Hannibal asked.

"My, my, how softly have you sneaked upon me! What brings you here? Are you curious about what your father is doing?"

"Yes," Hannibal replied.

"I am reading a book."

"What is a book?"

"A book is a story that someone has written. You see, all these little drawings are letters, and when you read those letters, you get words."

"These are letters?"

"Yes, they are. This is an S."

"S," mimicked Hannibal.

"And this is an H."

"H. And this?"

"That is a I, and that is a P. And together, it says 'ship', do you understand?"

"Yes, ship. And here? H... I... S..."

"His, Hannibal. Is says 'his'."

"His! Read more."

"Do you want me to read more? Well, I'll start reading from here. But first, sit down."

"Here."

"Next to me? Fine."

"I read too."

"Okay," said his father, "His infancy and childhood were spent in the midst of danger and trouble; for he accompanied his parents everywhere in their flight, and twice at Naples nearly betrayed them by his crying, when they were privately hastening to a ship, as the enemy rushed into the town; once, when he was snatched from his nurse's breast, and again, from his mother's bosom, by some of the company, who on the sudden emergency wished to relieve the women of their burden."

As his father read about a mother's bosom, Hannibal recalled a scene from about a year ago.

_First he saw a cacophony of colors. Slowly, he came to see it clearer, until he could recognize figures standing and walking. No, they _seemed_ to walk. It was a painting. But there was more. Something he felt. It was touching his cheek, and it was soft. His mother's breast. Yes, that was it. He remembered his hands touching his mother, the soft structure of her skin against his. Slow. And then he remembered seeing something else. Next to the painting. A glittering, a flash of light. The sun, reflecting on a bright thing. A cross, with a man on it. There it hung, on his mother's wall._

Then a sound, from far away. Someone calling him. It was his father. His father was asking him a question. Quickly he returned.

"Shall I get you a book, so you can try to read it your self?"

"Yes, I have a book too."

"Mm, let's see," said Hannibal's father and rose from his chair. As his father walked away, Hannibal looked at the side-table and saw the penknife.

"I think a fairy-tale book will be nice, with some pictures in it," his father said, and took a thick, large book from one of the shelves.

"Here you are, Hannibal."

"Thank you, papa."

Little Hannibal took the book and looked at the cover. With his left index finger, he traced the letters on the front.

"H. I. _Tėtė_, what is this?"

"... You know what – shall I write down all letters and read them to you?"

"Yes, all letters!"

As his father was writing down all letters and naming them, Hannibal heard someone outside. "There is Nurse," he said.

One moment later a knock on the door and Nurse entered the library carefully. On seeing Hannibal, her face relaxed.

"There you are. I'm sorry, Count. I turned around for a moment and when I turned back, he was gone. I have looked everywhere for you, young Master. I hope he hasn't bothered you, Count."

"No, not at all. He saw me reading, and wanted me to help him read."

"I know you are one clever child, young Master, but learning to read?"

"I can read!" declared Hannibal.

"I'm afraid he's telling the truth," said the Count to Nurse.

"And I must add that I have never heard him tell a lie, either. Usually he just keeps still. Shall I take him with me?"

"No, no, let him stay. Will you join us? There are some wonderful illuminated fairytale books over there; shall we get one of those, Hannibal?"

Hannibal nodded and smiled.

"Count, the boat is ready."

"Thank you, Lothar. We will be down in a minute."

The Count put on his sailing hat and checked briefly in the mirror if everything was in order with his garments. He walked over to Hannibal's room.

"Nurse, is Hannibal ready?"

"Yes Count, he is ready to go."

Nurse gave Hannibal a soft pinch in his cheek, smiled, and with a nod of her head, sent him of to his father.

"Papa, we go now?"

"Yes, we're going now. I suspect your mother is ready too."

As they walked down the hall, Hannibal's mother stepped out of her room, dressed in a navy-blue House of Worth. She smiled at her husband and son, and the three of them walked downstairs. Once outside, Lothar accompanied them to the lakeshore, where a brightly colored gaff cutter was waiting for them.

Maybe Lake Kiementas wasn't that large, and its shape wasn't quite suitable, but the Count really enjoyed sailing. So, a few years ago, he had ordered a cutter. Quite often, he would embark and sail the lake.

This time, Simonetta and Hannibal joined him to enjoy the sun and fresh air. The sun shone softly now, but was sure to have gathered in strength when the morning would be halfway. The wind was perfect. A slight breeze, just enough to sail but not strong enough to make sailing on the little lake impossible. Giedrius was a very good sailor. He had sailed the lake quite often and was completely acquainted with every yard. The lake held no surprises for him. The wind was the only variable in his equation, but he knew the limits. Every time they had to tack about, he warned Simonetta and Hannibal well in advance. No one got hit by the boom.

Simonetta loved to see her husband sailing. The sight of him enjoying himself was very satisfactory for her. His hands, hauling the lines, turned red. And so did his face. But the exertion was good for him, a smile inhabited his face when he sailed. Simonetta loved his smile. It was not a rare sight to see him smile, Giedrius knew how socialize, but right now, his smile was different. Just as genuine as the social smile, but this smile had its roots in his heart. This was taking a look in Giedrius' soul.

Gently, the waves splashed against the hull. The sound was calming, an ancient rhythm that had always been and would always be. Hannibal liked the sound. He also liked the scent of the lake. A mixture of algae, fish and salt water.

"Can we eat seaweed?" asked Hannibal.

"These, no. But there are a lot of seaweeds that can be eaten. Especially China and Japan consume a lot," answered his mother. "Would you like to try some once?"

"Do we have seaweed then?"

"Not at this moment. But I can order some. I believe I'm almost running out of a few things, I'll order some nori and aonori along. I'll make sushi and okonomiyaki for us all."

"And can I try it then?"

"Yes, you may."

Hannibal smiled at his mother to thank her, then caught a sun flare off the water. It left Hannibal seeing spots for minutes.


	5. Chapter 5

**Chapter 5**

Winter, January 1941, at Giedraičiai Castle. A bleak sun makes gloomy days that make one shiver to the bones. A cold wind blows fierce, adding an extra chill to the already low temperature. Only a few animals dare to challenge this environment now, many are in their winter sleep or have moved to warmer places. Snow, piling up against the doors, making it difficult to go outside – if one wanted to.

Inside, the drawing room is lit by a hearth and candles. The flickering lights create shadows that play games on the walls. In winter, the family and servants loved to get together in here, seeking each others company during these desolate months. The hearths and candles, a reminiscence of old days when lamps were not yet available, were both lighting and warming the drawing room, creating a fairytale-like atmosphere and soft shadows, playing games on the walls. The burning log filled the room with its deep toned perfume.

There's a grand piano in the drawing room. Sometimes Madame takes place behind the keyboard and plays something light and sweet to enliven the company. At this moment, she's playing Bach. Sarabande con Partite in C major, BWV 990. A lovely piece, but not quite a thoroughbred Bach... But still, very amusing.

Hannibal is sitting on a chair, facing his mother. He smells her perfume over the burning log. He cannot see her hands behind the grand piano, but he is glad he can see her face. Looking at her while playing is a joy for him. Privately, he thinks looking at people and reading are quite alike. He's reading her right now. Her eyes are not always on the sheet music – those are the most exquisite moments. When they wander off, she looks into a deep unknown. Maybe Hannibal cannot read her mind, but he can tell a lot of other things. She's very happy right now. How wonderfully content she is, she's experiencing so much pleasure from playing. Hannibal wants to feel that too.

.

The last notes die away.

"That was wonderful, dear."

"Yes, it's a lovely piece."

"Would you play some more, for me?"

"What would you like?"

"Do you have Domenico Scarlatti with you?"

"Yes, I have."

"Please, some Scarlatti. I particularly enjoy Scarlatti."

Simonetta closes Bach's sheet music, opens Scarlatti.

"Piano sonata in G, K. 108," she says, looking at Giedrius, smiling. Hannibal sees the beginning of a blush. He looks at his father as his mother starts playing. But Hannibal cannot say what he's feeling; his father's face is a blank. He turns his attention back to his mother. Yes, he can still read her. She's still is very happy.

Slowly, Hannibal rises. Gently, he walks around the grand piano, not disturbing his mother, or the dog sitting next to her. He looks at her _en profile_. A bit more difficult to see what she's feeling, but he's no longer interested in that. He moves on. Now he's standing behind her. Her perfume, of course, more present now. But there is more now. He smells her soap, it scents of almonds. Hannibal likes almonds, he likes their slit-eyed appearance.

Mother has finished the sonata. Her hands floating above the ebony and ivory keys, then she puts them to rest in her lap. Without turning, she asks, "Hannibal, did you like it?"

"Yes, mother."

"Do you want to play?"

"Yes, please."

"Come," she says.

Hannibal walks around her, she picks him up and sets him on her lap. He can feel her against his back and the folds of her dress under his legs. He hears his father moving in his chair, bending forward a fraction, thinking he will hear better that way.

"Since you know how to read, I will tell you which key is what note, what letter. Here are C, D, E, F, G, H, A and B. This is one octave. It repeats, do you see?"

"Yes, mother."

"Hold your hands like this," and softly, she takes his hands and holds them over the keyboard.

"Now, hold them like that, but don't put any tension in your forearms."

Hannibal nods and keeps his hands exactly as his mother told him to.

"Now, press the C with your right index finger."

And then, as if he never has done anything else, Hannibal plays the C.

"C with your left little finger."

And again, no delay – Hannibal instantly plays the right note. Everybody's attention was focused on the little boy.

"With your right hand, C – D – E – F – G."

Hannibal played with his right hand.

"With your left hand, the same."

Hannibal played with his left hand.

"Mama... I did not use my thumb for that."

"I know, Hannibal. Does it matter?"

"No, it does not matter to _me_, mama."

"Fine. Then, just play and enjoy playing."

Hannibal smiled. His little, white teeth almost reflecting the lights of the candles that are on the grand piano. Following his mother's instructions, Hannibal moved his hands over the keyboard, playing the required notes, his fingers registering the difference in feel between the white and black keys.


	6. Chapter 6

Chapter 6

"What we heard were some plains bombing the rail yards. The major roads is where they will be fighting next. Colonel Timka believes they will be here within a week, and that we will be safe in the lodge," spoke Count Lecter to the staff in the courtyard of Giedraičiai Castle on that awful June 23rd 1941. It was the second day of Operation Barbarossa, Hitler's _Blitzkrieg_ across Eastern Europe into Russia.

"So," he continued, "We will all move to the lodge. We will use the hunting wagon to get everything to the lodge. Lothar, you will supervise the packing and loading here, Berndt you will handle Licorne with the wagon. Ernst, you will come along on the first ride with Berndt, to clear the lodge. The first ride will be the bare necessities, the second ride will take the family, after that, we'll see how many rides we will need more. Any questions? No? Let's get to it."

Everybody was nervous. Who knew how fast the Germans were going to reach the Castle! Lothar called the staff together and started issuing commands. The Count went back inside and went to his wife and son, who were waiting for him in her room.

"We have started packing. I'm sure the first load will be ready and delivered this morning, then we will go to the lodge. Hannibal, stay with your mother. I'm going to help them pack."

Count Lecter went out again. Hannibal's mother looked at her son, sighed, and held his hand.

"This is going to be quite an adventure!" she said to him.

Hannibal looked back at his mother. In silence, they read each other. Simonetta was not afraid.

"Hannibal, please get me that casket."

Hannibal went over to the casket, picked it up and brought it to his mother. She had turned towards her majestic clock.

"Tempora mutantur et nos mutamur in illis," Hannibal read from the _tête de poupée_.

Simonetta smiled. After a thought she pressed one of the noses of the ornamental Cerberus. A hidden drawer opened, containing jewels and bundled letters. Carefully, she scooped as much as possible in the casket. When nothing more could be transferred, she walked over to the boar's head on the wall. She took it off and put her hand in its mouth. She tugged at the tongue, it came out with its attached stopper. The rest of the jewelry she hid in the secret compartment in he boar's head, then she replaced the tongue.

"Pearls before swine," she said to Hannibal.

That done, she rose silently, holding the casket in her arms.

"Let's go to the drawing room."

.

In the drawing room, quite a few baskets, trunks and valises had already been placed, waiting for transportation to the lodge. Lothar came in, carrying yet another trunk.

"Lothar, this casket needs to go to the lodge too."

"Yes, Madame. We're almost done packing for the first load. Would you like me to see to its transportation, that it is correctly handled?"

"Yes, please," said Madame and passed the casket to Lothar.

One of the servants came in with a valise, and placed it with the others.

"This is the last one from young Master's room."

"Is Berndt ready with the horse and wagon? If so, start taking all this to the wagon."

The servant nodded and left.

"Lothar, we need to attend to the paintings and sculptures. Follow me, I'll show you what I want to take along, and what I want you to store in the secret wine-cellar. Hannibal, come with us."

"Madame, are you sure you are up to this? Are you sure you would not like to sit down?"

"I'm fine, Lothar. Besides, there is no time for weakness."

First, Madame told Lothar what to do with the art they found in the drawing room. Lothar took down all the art she wanted at the lodge, and placed it in the corner. Then he followed her into the hallway. There he did the same. Hannibal looked at all the pictures Lothar placed on the floor. He did not understand all those paintings of people, but he did like the landscapes.

"Those two, the Bellotto and the Canaletto, will remain here."

Hannibal came closer to the paintings. He had seen them before, but looked at them now with a bit more attention. They were very nice. Bright colors _and_ deep shadows. He felt he could almost walk into the scenes. He felt his mother standing next to him.

"They are lovely paintings, aren't they?"

Hannibal nodded.

"We'll see them again, when the Germans have been defeated, yes?"

Hannibal nodded again.

"Now, Hannibal, go to Nurse," said his mother. "I just heard her returning from the village – she's in the courtyard. She will accompany you from now on."

"Yes, mother."

"Lothar, that was it for the hallway. We'll continue there," said Simonetta and walked towards the next room.

.

After all the trunks and art had been secured in the wagon, Berndt took the reigns and led the slender white horse, that Madame had named Licorne, into the forest, up the path to the lodge. Lothar brought the rest of the art into the wine-cellar.

The awful route to the wine-cellar was perhaps the only thing Lothar did not like about the Castle, for it lead past several impossible stairs and doors – some of which were very low, and each time he bumped his head somewhere on the way – but he did manage to bring all the artifacts in there, undamaged. But they needed to be hidden. So, he pulled the iron chandelier above the tasting table. With a click, one end of the wine rack swung a few inches away from the wall. Lothar pulled it further, revealing a hidden room. He took a lantern, and entered it.

After his inspection of the room, he started to move everything into it. It took him two hours to store everything carefully. Having done all that, he pushed the rack back into its place, and left the wine-cellar. What he had not heard was that Paul, one of the locals that had helped packing, had been snooping around and had seen him pull the chandelier and enter the hidden room...


	7. Chapter 7

**Chapter 7**

That afternoon, the last primary things were brought to the hunting wagon and loaded. The Count, Madame and young Master would ride in the wagon, together with Nurse. Berndt was going to guide Licorne, Lothar and gardener Ernst would follow by foot.

Just before getting in the car, the Count took a last look at Giedraičiai Castle. And even though the sun was shining hard, the Count felt a shiver down his spine. He turned and walked to the wagon.

"Let's go," he said solemnly.

He lifted Hannibal in, then took Simonetta's hand to help her. With her other hand she gripped the wagon, but getting in was more difficult than usual for her. But she managed, after two tries. Taking deep breaths, she sat down.

"Are you alright?" asked Giedrius.

"It will have to do, won't it?" she said wryly.

Hannibal looked at his mother, not understanding why she was so... so unfriendly, lately. She had to be sick, he was sure. Probably something with her stomach, her belly was a bit larger than normal.

"Berndt, let's go."

"Yes, Count."

Berndt gently pulled the rope attached to Licorne's harness, the horse immediately followed him and off they were. It would take them two hours to reach the lodge, but it would be a lot safer there, no major roads or railroads in the vicinity.

.

The path up to the lodge wasn't an easy path. It wasn't used much and it had overgrown severely. Berndt had travelled the path that morning with the first load, but that had helped not much removing the greenery that was on the path. Seeing that the people inside the wagon were often hindered by the branches, Lothar asked the Count if he could put Hannibal on Licorne's back and have Ernst take his place in the wagon, so that he could hack back the overgrown branches for them. The Count doubted if Hannibal would be able to remain seated on Licorne, but Madame told him he should try at least. So, Lothar moved Hannibal to the back of the horse, much to Hannibal's delight. Lothar told Berndt to watch the boy, then Ernst climbed into the wagon and started keeping the branches out of the wagon.

Hannibal was enjoying the ride. He was very comfortable on Licorne's back and did not threaten to fall off once. He looked around, saw various animals, though no large ones. The dog probably scared them away. The sun was warm on his back; he could feel the glow spreading to the rest of his body. He smelled greenery, crushed by the wheels of the wagon. And he smelled Licorne, whose body had a warm scent. And over the horse's scent, Hannibal could smell his mother's perfume, which he enjoyed very much. He could hear her too. He looked around, saw the rosary in her hand, and knew she was praying.

.

The sound of airplanes overhead made him look up. He saw the bombers pass by, through the canopy of the high trees. When they had gone, he recalled the moment from his memory, and watched them fly by again and again. He counted the bombs on all planes.

"Let's hope they will be shot down as soon as possible," Ernst grumbled.

"Yes, but I'm afraid more are coming. And infantry and tanks," said the Count. "And I believe it is going to take a lot of time before this all will be over. The Soviet army will probably try to wear them out, lure them so far into the land that their supply lines will overstretch. That's when they will weaken, and then they will retaliate. They did that with Napoleon, they did it with them when they were here the last time, and they will do it again. Let's hope the Germans haven't changed _their_ tactics. But I doubt it."

"I have heard there are some who welcome the Germans as liberators."

"Hm. The Soviets have 'helped' us against the Germans, now the Germans will 'help' us against the Soviets? I think not."

Lothar smiled and nodded.

"We don't need anybody," said the Count. "No Soviets, no Germans."

.

Half an hour later, they had reached the lodge. Having been in the family for over 400 years, it had been altered and expanded quite a few times in haphazard ways. The original idea was a small shelter, now it was more of a Frankenstein monster. But it would suffice for the current purpose: housing the family and protecting it from unwanted visitors.

A small barn, several yards away from the lodge, contained the stalls and a bunkhouse. But Licorne could not rest yet, Berndt would make one last trip today, to get as many personal belongings as possible to the lodge. And hopefully it would be possible tomorrow to move yet some more things.

Everybody got out of the wagon. Nurse and Lothar went inside to prepare everything for the family, Ernst and Berndt started unloading the wagon. The Count brought his wife a chair from inside, and sat her down on it, outside, in the warmth of the afternoon sun. The ride in the swaying wagon had been hard on her. Hannibal remained outside too, exploring the surroundings, but not leaving his parent's sight.

.

As soon as they had unloaded the wagon, Berndt went back to the castle with it. The descent was quick, but as he neared the castle, Berndt felt something was wrong, and he slowed down. He put his hand over Licorne's muzzle to quiet him, and he spoke softly to him. Slowly, he advanced. As he neared the edge of the forest, he distinctly heard engines running. Two deep diesel engines and one lighter gasoline engine. He bound Licorne to a tree and carefully, step by step, he moved forward. Going from tree to tree, he managed to get a good look at the courtyard. There he saw the two Panzer tanks, engines running. On the other side, two trucks. One was lifted with a bumper jack. Men in uniform walking to and fro. Germans. It was a company of the _Totenkopf_ Waffen-SS. Then he saw the rest of the staff, but they were no longer standing. They were lying on the ground, in a disorderly row, a pool of blood under them. Berndt could see the white spots on the wall behind them, where the machine gun bullets had blasted away the terracotta paint on the plaster walls.

He turned around, softly. As careful as possible, he went back to the wagon. He put his hand over Licorne's muzzle again, then turned the wagon. The ascend with the empty wagon did not take him long, his nerves almost failing him. As he reached the lodge, he just let go of the horse and went inside. Licorne walked over to Hannibal, who was outside, watching the sun set. He lowered his head and Hannibal stroked it gently. White cabbage butterflies fluttered around them.

Nurse appeared in the door opening, she looked around and when she saw Hannibal, she quickly walked to him.

"Young Master, we must go inside."

Hannibal nodded and took the hand she offered him. Inside, he saw everybody busy blinding the windows with curtains and such.

"Hannibal, we have to be very careful now. It is not safe," said his father.

"Count, they will be moving eastward as soon as possible. I think they will go when they have repaired their truck."

"I sure hope so. But we cannot risk anything. The next few days will be very difficult, but the lodge is as safe as we can get. And with the food already here, we can survive for quite a while. I'm so glad we decided to bring the food with the first ride."

Simonetta did not speak, but she thought of the others who otherwise would have shared that food. She motioned Hannibal to come. He jumped of Nurse's lap and walked to her. His mother picked him up and cradled him.


	8. Chapter 8

**Chapter 8**

As Berndt had expected, the Germans left as soon as their truck had been repaired. Only a squad of Pantzergrenadiers stayed at the castle to man the radio they had installed. They did not bother to scout the surroundings. Instead, they searched the castle, and were delighted when they discovered the liquor cabinets.

Maybe they believed that the Slavic life forms were lower, they sure were not troubled by this knowledge when it came to confiscating their alcohol. It sure beat continuing eastward and fighting the Russians.

.

With supplies meant for twice as much people, the company in the lodge was well provisioned. They were ample stocked with flour, sugar and salt.

Ernst managed to grow vegetables in the garden. Cabbages, carrots, eggplants, all in abundance. But meat was scarce, even though Lothar, Berndt and the Count managed to catch partridges, hares and such by using snares. They did not dare use rifles to hunt. Nurse surprised everybody by making a rod and catching trout, which they salted.

The main danger they feared was discovery. Each evening, the windows were blinded, and no-one went outside after sunset.

But sometimes, men in civilian clothes came to the lodge in the dark, and softly knocked a certain code on the door. When that happened, the lights were lowered to almost nothing and the door was opened to let then in. Lothar and the Count would speak to these men softly in Lithuanian. Quite often, they would shake their heads in disbelief and anger. And as much as could be afforded, they provided the men with food. But always, instructions.

.

"I will take him to bed this time, Nurse."

"Yes, Madame."

Simonetta took the delighted Hannibal by the hand, and walked him to his room.

When she had changed him into his pajama, she had him climb into his bed.

"You're quite capable of that, Hannibal. No need for me to lift you, am I right?"

"No mother. Will you read me something?"

"No, but I know something better. I will tell you about my family in Italy."

Hannibal's eyes sparked with pleasure. He slightly shifted and settled against his propped up pillow.

His mother took the chair from the other side of the room and set it besides his bed. She felt a lock of her fine hair fall over her forehead. With a ferine movement, she flew from her first-born's room, returning after a few moments, her head bedecked with a diadem. Finally, she sat down.

"My ancestry is Milanese, as you already know. But I think that's just all you know, am I right?"

"Yes, mother."

"My family name is Sforza. But our lineage can be traced back to the Visconti family. The Visconti were rulers of Milan from 1277 till 1447. Their reign started when Ottone Visconti, archbishop of Milan, took control of the city from the rival Della Torre family. They reigned as Lords. And since 1395 as Dukes, starting with Gian Galleazzo. With the cruel and paranoid Filippo Maria, the direct male line Visconti reign ended, because he only left a daughter, Bianca Maria. Filippo Maria died in 1447. He was succeeded by Francesco Sforza, his son-in-law."

Hannibal sat motionless, listening to every word his mother said. He loved to hear her tell about her ancestry. As she spoke about her fore-fathers, her face was a joy to read. Hannibal loved his mother very much.

"Did you know that Pope Gregory X was born Teobaldo Visconti?" his mother said. Hannibal registered instantly the fact meant a lot to her. A moment of silence, then she crossed herself.

"The Sforzi are originally peasants. They rose as they became condottieri, mercenary soldier leaders. They governed by force and power politics, and the city prospered under their rule. They ruled until the year 1535. But they did not only know war, they also knew art. Ludovico il Moro took Leonardo da Vinci at his service. Leonardo da Vinci was a true Renaissance man, Hannibal. He knew mathematics, science, anatomy, art, architecture, music. If you can, learn about and from him. You know, when Leonardo was still a baby, a kite came down from the sky and hovered over his cradle, the tail feathers softly touching his face. He never forgot that moment."

His mother looked at him and smiled.

"What will you remember when you grow up, Hannibal? Will you remember me telling you all this?"

"I will always remember you, mother," he said most solemnly.

She smiled. "I know you will."

"And Galleazzo Maria Sforza was a patron of music. Famous Franco-Flemish composers and singers were encouraged and financially backed by him. And finally, we must remember the name of Caterina Sforza. But I will tell you later more of her, since there is so much I could tell you about her. But now, it is time to go to sleep, my little child."

.

Some weeks later, in February 1942, as the sun had set and all were gathered again in the living room of the lodge, Hannibal's mother suddenly looked up, her eyes wide open, her hand on her belly.

"It is time, Giedrius."

Berndt at once rose from the chair he had been sitting in and walked over to Hannibal.

"Come with me, young Master. Let's go to the library, I will read you something."

Hannibal looked at his mother. She was distressed yet happy. He followed Berndt.

Now, what shall I read you? A fairy-tale? How about this book here – it says 'Kalevala, the epic poem of Finland, translated by A. Sabaliauskas, illustrations by A. Gallen-Kallela'. Yes, I will read you that"

Berndt took Hannibal to the reading-table, seated him and sat down beside him. He opened the large book at a random page, and Hannibal was instantly taken by the powerful, dark and aggressive painting he saw. It was Youkahainen's Revenge.

"Read this, Berndt."

"Are you sure, young Master? I think it is not a friendly piece."

Hannibal nodded very self-assured. Berndt knew Hannibal, and started reading. Hannibal listened intensely, even if he knew how to read himself. In fact, he would rather have read it himself, as Berndt was not a very fast reader.

_"...But the evil Youkahainen_

_Nursed a grudge within his bosom,_

_In his heart the worm of envy,_

_Envy of this Wainamoinen,_

_Of this wonderful enchanter._

_He prepares a cruel cross-bow,_

_Made of steel and other metals,_

_Paints the bow in many colors,_

_Molds the top-piece out or copper,_

_Trims his bow with snowy silver,_

_Gold he uses too in trimming..."_

Hannibal took another look at the painting, and decided that it had really captivated the emotions of the moment. A few moments later, Berndt wanted to turn the page, but it had not been cut yet. Hannibal took out his penknife and separated the next pages for Berndt. Berndt then continued reading.

_"...Ready now are all his arrows,_

_Ready strung, his cruel cross-bow._

_Waiting for wise Wainamoinen._

_Youkahainen, Lapland's minstrel,_

_Waits a long time, is not weary..."_

"Berndt, why is he not weary?" asked Hannibal.

"Why is he not weary? Because he believes his vengeance is righteous. And if someone believes that, he can wait until justice will be done, no matter how long it will take."

"I see. What is the matter with mother?"

"I don't know Hannibal. Why don't you ask her tomorrow yourself? It's time to go to bed now."

Hannibal looked at Berndt, maybe he frowned for a moment.

"May I read some more in bed?"

"Half an hour, but not longer. Even you need to rest."

Hannibal closed the book carefully and took it with him as they ascended the stairs to his bedroom.

.

"Isn't she just adorable?" Simonetta asked her husband.

"It's a beautiful little girl," he replied.

Nurse rose from her chair in the corner of the room and walked towards the little child in the cradle, next to the bed. It was a crude cradle, Berndt and Ernst had made it from whatever serviceable wood they could find, but they had abraded it as good as they possibly could have. It was such a shame they had not been able to get the third load that awful day in June. Most baby-necessaries had been in that load; Hannibal's cradle had been one of the things they had been forced to leave behind.

"She's such a lovely little girl," Nurse said. "Do you wish me to bring Hannibal, Madame?"

"Please do, Nurse. And please get me some water to drink."

"Yes, Madame."

Nurse left the room. She went to Hannibal's room, as she opened the door, she found him in asleep in bed with an opened book on his quilt. Then Hannibal opened his eyes.

"Good morning, Nurse," he said, as if he had not been sleeping at all.

"Good morning, young Master. You have been reading instead of sleeping."

Hannibal rose and closed the book.

"I have slept enough," he said.

"Then you can sell your bed," jested Nurse, and walked towards him.

"Rise, young Master. We have a surprise for you."

"Is my mother no longer ill?"

"That too. Come with me," said Nurse, and kept it at that.

Hannibal blinked, got out of bed and followed her.

.

The first thing Hannibal came to mind as he saw the little child in her cradle, was Leonardo da Vinci's childhood memory of the kite. At the same moment, verses from the Kalevala he had read the evening before came to his mind.

_"...Comes a bird from far Pohyola,_

_From the occident, an eagle,_

_Is not classed among the largest,_

_Nor belongs he to the smallest;_

_One wing touches on the waters,_

_While the other sweeps the heavens..."_

It was a sorry little thing, the baby. Wrinkled. It looked like a red squirrel. Therefore, how convenient would it be to everyone if it would be taken, by the eagle, to Pohyola. Then everybody here would be freed from this ugly child, and the people there would be delighted with another fairy-tale figure.

At the same time, Hannibal saw his parents and the servants, and knew he should not express that thought.


	9. Chapter 9

Chapter 9

In the months that followed, with Nurse and mother mostly being occupied with taking care of his sister, Hannibal often found himself going to his father. He would sit with him or walk with him. His father would speak to him about what he was doing and discovered that his son was still inquisitive and studious. No, that was not true. His son was now _even more_ eager to learn. So, after a few days, his father brought Hannibal some books they had taken with them and started to teach Hannibal. The art of reading he had already mastered, but writing not. That's where they started.

"It is best to learn to write before you learn anything else, so you will be able to copy things and write down your own thoughts. So, here is a pencil. Hold it like this in your right hand. If you feel more comfortable writing with your left hand, that 's fine too. But try your right hand first."

Hannibal took the pencil, held it in his right hand and started to draw a few lines and circles. Then he switched hands and tried again.

"I like to write with both hands, father."

"That's possible. Just write, that's the most important part. Now, I will write down all letters."

Giedrius wrote down all letters, to show how the strokes were to be made. As he finished the last letter and was about to tell Hannibal that he would show them one by one again, Hannibal already started to write, without asking a question. And each letter he wrote as his father had shown him. Hannibal finished writing with his right hand, switched the pencil and began to write with his left. And this time too, just as well, without a question or fault. Then, he lay down the pencil and looked at his father.

"I think this is correct. Am I right?"

"You don't think you are right, Hannibal. You _know_ that you are right, don't you?"

Hannibal smiled.

"Yes, father."

"Then just say so, nothing wrong with that. Telling the truth is very easy, Hannibal. A lie can be told so easily, but it is very difficult to keep the lie. And some people even believe their own lies, that's about the worst thing about lies. I believe that if you have to lie, it is better to alter the truth, or say nothing at all. But I prefer telling the truth, even if the truth can sting or hurt."

Giedrius looked at his son.

"Maybe that was a bit too difficult. You can forget what I said, Hannibal."

Hannibal nodded, but he knew he probably would not. He remembered almost anything.

"Now then, let's focus on the shape of the letters. You don't just want your letters to be readable, you also want your letters to please. The way words are written is part of their meaning or they tell a story of their own. I can write 'It was a beautiful day', but when my letters are all crooked and irregular, what does that say?"

Hannibal grinned.

"It was a lie."

Giedrius laughed.

"Yes, that's one possibility."

Giedrius taught Hannibal as well as he could. He found that Hannibal had already mastered many grammar school skills by himself. He taught him the rest and was surprised by Hannibal memory and intellectual power. Hannibal enjoyed learning. Winter 1942-'43 was a pleasant time for him.

.

Spring 1943 was an even more pleasant time for Hannibal. After being confined to the house during the cold winter, walking in the garden with the sun on his face was a treat. But even more: his sister had turned out a treat too. As her wrinkles disappeared and her chubby baby face emerged, Hannibal's repugnance disappeared too, and he found he really liked the little girl with her star-shaped baby hands. The thought that he at first had disliked her, was intolerable to him now. The thought was banned from his consciousness. Now, he loved Mischa, as his parents had named her. And as the months passed and the sun brightened, his love for her grew.

.

Nurse entertained Mischa, while Hannibal's mother taught him more about making music. No longer on the grand piano from the Castle, but on the harpsichord they had found at the lodge. His mother liked the grand piano better because it has dynamic nuance, demanding control of touch from the performer. Hannibal liked the harpsichord for its sound, once the key was struck, the note was there, completely, independent from everything but the instrument. Only echo and reverberation were added to the sound.

Today, she taught Hannibal by having him play two pieces from Jean-Baptiste de Lully, even if the man had naturalized from Italian to French citizen. The first piece was _Un tendre coeur_, which Hannibal rounded without much trouble. The left-hand part was always the most confronting for them, but Hannibal had learned to put his extra finger to good use. While playing, he thought about de Lully's life, musing what would have happened to him, had he allowed his toe to be amputated.

The second piece was _J'ai perdu l'appétit_, a very comical piece. Hannibal had a bit more trouble with this one, as his mother was getting merry, presumably by the music. Besides, as he played, he heard Nurse walking to and fro, preparing the bath for Mischa. He knew he would be asked to maintain a vigil over her, but he wanted to round the piece successfully, so he withdrew his attention from his mother and just played the piece as she had demonstrated, without improvising and trying new things any more. He saw Nurse passing by, the beaten copper cistern, with only a bottom of water, in her hand. As he had finished the piece, his mother kissed him on the crown of his head, and with a nod of her head, sent him off.

Nurse had placed the cistern in the middle of the garden, where it would gather as much warmth from the sun as possible. There it stood, among the many vegetables Ernst had planted, nearest to the eggplants. Mischa had always favored the eggplants, and only Hannibal knew it was because of their color. Mischa loved colors. Nurse re-entered the lodge and went to the little two-year-old's nursery, to undress her for her bath. When she returned with his little sister, she told Hannibal to take the dog with him and watch his little sister as she bathed. Hannibal called the Akita, and went outside, following Nurse. She had set Mischa in the water. It covered only her chubby legs. Quickly, Nurse washed her, then went inside. She told Hannibal she would be back in a few minutes.

As Hannibal looked at to Nurse, he did not see Mischa. So, unexpected, she put her star-shaped baby hands on his face, laughing out loud. Bubbles of soap on Hannibal's face. Hannibal could not help but laugh too. It was a rare occasion to see him laugh, but it did not surprise or scare Mischa. They looked in each other's eyes. Hannibal's maroon and stalwart, Mischa's blue and tender. Then Mischa looked past Hannibal and stretched her arms. Then Nurse came and took Mischa out of her bath, the little girl still looking past Hannibal, but Nurse did not notice. Lothar came out, dumped the water and took the cistern back inside.

Hannibal took out his penknife, kneeled beside the eggplants and carefully cut the stem of one. He polished it carefully with his handkerchief and took it inside. He walked to Mischa's nursery and placed it where she could see it. Her face lit.


	10. Chapter 10

**Chapter 10**

As the young man tried to get off the horse, Giedrius approached him and gave him a hand. It was clear the man had not much experience riding on horse-back. The farmer that had lead the horse greeted the Count courteous. Then he unloaded the suitcase the man had brought and returned to the village with the horse..

The young man rubbed his legs for a moment. He felt the summer sun shine on his black hair.

"Welcome, Mr. Jakov. I hope the ride wasn't too uncomfortable?"

"It was a bit awkward, but I've made it. I just hope I don't need to repeat the ride soon," the man replied as he slowly regained his footing.

"If your referees are right, you won't have to. Shall I introduce you to everybody?"

"Yes, please."

"No, no, please, leave your suitcase. I will send someone for it."

.

The Count introduced all staff-members, who had lined up in front of the lodge. Then he introduced Mr. Jakov to them as Hannibal's tutor. No menial work would be assigned to him.

"Please, follow me. I'll introduce you to my wife, and Hannibal."

Mr. Jakov followed the Count into the lodge. There, Madame sat at the harpsichord. Mr. Jakov saw the sheet-music; Felix Mendelssohn Bartholdy, _Lieder ohne Worte_, Book 1. She finished the third movement and let the notes die out. Then she rose, and walked towards the Count and Mr. Jakov.

"Welcome, Mr. Jakov. Notwithstanding the lessons you will be giving here will probably be not as challenging as you were accustomed to in Leipzig, I hope your time here will be fruitful. You will meet Hannibal in a few moments."

"I have been informed that teaching Hannibal will be quite a challenge too."

"Yes, I believe it will be."

"I will do my best to teach him."

"But it's not your teaching that I worry about. Most people are... afraid of Hannibal. He's different from other children in his behavior and he's very bright. Too bright for the likes of some people."

"Your invitation mentioned his mental faculties."

"We would like to give him the best education possible under current circumstances. It's just a shame you were no longer allowed to teach at the university."

Mr. Jakov looked at her and found her very sincere.

"May I thank you both for this opportunity?"

Madame nodded her head in acquiescence.

" Shall we go?"

Madame took Mr. Jakov to Hannibal's room.

.

After the introduction, Madame left them alone. Hannibal had risen from his chair, and stood with his hands behind his back. He looked at Mr. Jakov and read his face. Then he saw that Mr. Jakov was reading him as well. A fraction of a moment later, Hannibal's face lost all expression. Mr. Jakov suddenly felt as if he was nothing more than an object in the room. Then he realized it was a four-and-a-half year old child doing this to him. A chill went down his spine, but he mustered his courage.

"Good evening, young Master Hannibal."

He saw the change in Hannibal's eyes, he had regained his attention.

"Good evening, Mr. Jakov."

"As a three year old, Carl Gauss saw his father calculating his finances. Mentally calculating along, he found an error in his father's calculations. Gauss was a child prodigy, but as all children, he grew up and learned more each day. Both own discoveries and what teachers or others told him. I hear you are a bright child too. Can I teach you further?"

Hannibal liked the man. Though he had scared as Hannibal had read him, he had stood up to it. The man had recovered very fast. He had already been told he could learn a lot from this man, he knew this to be true now.

"Yes, please. Father told me you were a great scholar at the Leipzig University."

"I was."

"I hope your time here won't feel like wasted."

"I'm sure it won't. Teaching was no longer an option in Leipzig, it is here."

"Shall I show you your room?"

As they walked to Mr. Jakov's room, Hannibal asked him about his former work at the University. Mr. Jakov told him he had taught classical literature, English and French. The mathematics he knew was out of personal interest, he had not taught it, but his skills would surely suffice for the moment.

.

Teaching Hannibal was a mixture of theory and practice. Mr. Jakov liked to alternate between the two. It helped to keep the concentration, but it was also an immense joy to him. After so many years of being restricted by racial laws, walking outside was without any limitation was a pleasure hard to describe.

So the theory was taught inside; Mr. Jakov would sit next to Hannibal at the table, books in front of them, a writing pad at hand for notes and small exercises. The practice would be done outside – if the weather permitted them, naturally. While walking, Mr. Jakov would examine Hannibal. Sometimes he would forget he was walking with a child and walk too fast, but Hannibal would take a quick double step and catch up with him. Quite often, Mr. Jakov would not even notice this.

And there were walks when Mr. Jakov would not be teaching or examining, where they would just walk and talk about a great diversity of subjects.

"Did you see our Castle when you were in Giedraičiai?" Hannibal once asked.

"Yes, I did."

"I loved it there. Especially the basement was nice, with all it's strange stairs and rooms. Sometimes, I just sit or lie and revisit it. I remember a lot."

"But not all?"

"No. Do you remember everything?"

"No, not everything. But I remember a lot."

"How?"

"Well, I have a Castle of my own, with many rooms in it. I can recall my bedroom from the house where I was born, for instance. In that room, there's a bookcase. Oak. Dark. It is in the corner on the right as I enter the room. In it are all the books I read as a child. For example, there's _Der Struwwelpeter_, the Slovenly Peter. It's creamy-white cover draws my attention right now, in the morning sun. I open it at a random page and read. This is _Die Geschichte vom Daumenlutscher_, the Story of Little Suck-a-Thumb. But for you, I will recite the English translation.

_The door flew open, in he ran,_

_The great, long, red-legged scissor-man._

_Oh! children, see! the tailor's come_

_And caught out little Suck-a-Thumb._

_Snip! Snap! Snip! the scissors go;_

_And Conrad cries out "Oh! Oh! Oh!"_

_Snip! Snap! Snip! They go so fast,_

_That both his thumbs are off at last._

That's how I remember, young Master Hannibal. If you want to remember too, you could create your own Castle, and furnish its rooms with all the things you want to remember. Each room has its own purpose and objects."

Hannibal looked at Mr. Jakov and smiled.

"I will," he said.


	11. Chapter 11

Chapter 11

"Anniba!" called Mischa while she walked towards him. Hannibal pretended not to hear her. As he expected, Mischa kept on calling him, even as she had approached him at arm length. Then, as quick as lightning, Hannibal turned around and lifted her into the air. Mischa screamed in delight, then laughed out loud. Hannibal smiled at his little sister and circled round and round. Her laughing did not wane. The moment he sensed Mischa was getting exhausted, he gently put her back on her feet. His breathing had only deepened slightly, the effort hadn't been much of a challenge for him. Mischa was still gasping for breath between her chuckles. Hannibal stood silent, looking at her, waiting for her to recover.

"Anniba...," she started, then chuckled again. "Anniba, I want to ride Icorne."

Hannibal hoped she would learn to pronounce all letters correctly soon. She was already two years old but sometimes Hannibal despaired. She just couldn't remember at once, she always had to be told again and again. There had been a moment he had thought she might be a bit mentally deficient, but his parents and nurse didn't seem to think so. He concluded she was developing just as everybody expected. Which made him ponder about his own development.

"I'll get Licorne," Hannibal said. Mischa followed him to the small barn. When they entered, they saw their mother brushing Licorne's mane.

"Well, hello, you two. What are you up to?"

"Mischa wanted to ride Licorne."

"I see. Let me finish this first, then I'll join you two."

Hannibal sat Mischa in the corner, got a rope and set next to her. Then they watched mother brushing the stallion's mane. Licorne clearly enjoyed the attention, he snorted and paced in delight as Simonetta brushed. In the meantime, Hannibal knotted the rope into a hackamore. Mischa twice tried to grab the rope from him, but he gently retrieved it from her. Their father's Akita walked in, and settled herself next to them. Hannibal took out his penknife, cut off a foot of the rope and gave it to Mischa to play with. The dog also received a foot of rope, she started chewing it.

"I'm ready now."

They rose and Hannibal handed her the hackamore. Simonetta put the headgear in place and lead Licorne outside, Hannibal and Mischa followed. At first, the Akita remained where she was, but soon she rose also and followed them outside.

"Mischa, come here."

Mischa walked over to her mother, who lifted her on the horse with a broad sway that inflicted a round of laughter from the little girl.

"Hold the rope, Mischa."

"Yes, mother."

"Hannibal, lead Licorne. I will walk here and hold Mischa. Let's circle around the garden."

Hannibal nodded, took the rope and started walking. Licorne gently followed, with Simonetta next to him and the Akita behind him.

"This is a true _Estate di San Martino_, Hannibal," said his mother. " Spring joys but autumn boons. I always enjoy these warm days."

"Why?"

"Now, now, Hannibal. Always asking questions. Don't you know not every question has an answer?"

"I know that."

"Then why ask?"

"I'm sure you do know why you like them. And _you_ started about them."

His mother laughed.

"Well, yes, that's both true. But maybe I don't want to tell you."

"That I don't believe."

His mother laughed again.

"Well, you clever boy. In that case, I will tell. But I'm not sure if you will understand. They remind me of the wonderful last days of summers in Milan."

Simonetta looked at the sun. Hannibal turned his head and watched her for a moment, then he looked ahead again. He knew she would continue, so he kept silent.

"Hannibal, if you really love someone, you will do anything for that person. I left my hometown. I traded warm Milan for the chilly town of Giedraičiai, but I have never regretted it. It's simply a matter of being reminded of things gone by. Where I live does not matter. Did you know that your uncle Kristijonas also left his hometown? He married a French lady and left Lithuania to live with her. They own a castle in Chevreuse, near Paris. Let's just hope the Germans haven't bombed it."

Simonetta was silent for a moment. She checked Mischa, saw she was fine and enjoying the ride. She did not seem to listen to her mother's words. But Hannibal, she knew, was.

"What I mean, Hannibal, is that you have a choice, a free will. Dante tells us that the greatest gift, that God in His kindness, gave in the creation was the freedom of will. To choose is to weigh all pros and cons, considering the circumstances. There can be circumstances that render some options foolish. For instance, we chose to live at the lodge when the war started. We could have chosen to remain at the Castle, but that would have been a foolish thing to do.

But one choice is the greatest choice of all. God gave us this treasure, our free will, because He wants us to believe in Him and follow His will. And when establishing a covenant, this treasure is sacrificed. He gave us our free will, with the purpose that we would choose to follow Him and voluntarily return the gift to Him. That's the ultimate purpose of our free will."

Simonetta sighed.

"I suppose this is all too difficult for you. I'm sorry."

Hannibal stopped the horse and turned around.

"Don't be sorry, mama. I think I understand."

Simonetta smiled and put her hand on his head. She ran her fingers through his hair.

"I hope you do. Let's get back inside, dusk falls upon us."

Hannibal led Licorne back to the barn. Once inside, Simonetta lifted Mischa from the horse and put her gently on the ground. She freed Licorne of the hackamore and hung it on the wall.

"Maybe we can ride again soon," she said.

Then she took her children outside and closed the door to the barn. Mischa ran ahead, laughing, and stormed into the lodge. Simonetta and Hannibal walked slower and in silence.


	12. Chapter 12

**Chapter 12**

Mr. Jakov handed Hannibal a paper.

"You have been studying Euclid long enough now, here is a test I have put together on book XII. You have an hour to complete the test."

Hannibal set to work. First he looked through the questions and thought the test was fairly easy. Mr. Jakov had not expanded on Euclid's propositions, he had only made use of them. Hannibal started writing.

Mr. Jakov looked at Hannibal answering the questions. He did not see the five year old boy doubt or pause, he just wrote down the answers as if he was copying them. He finished in half an hour.

"Don't you need to review your answers?" Mr Jakov asked, to test him.

"No. They are correct."

"How do you know?"

"The questions you posed were direct copies from Euclid's propositions. I looked them up."

"So you have been building a Memory Castle?"

"Yes, I have."

"And it works."

"Q.e.d." said Hannibal and smiled.

"How many rooms does it have now?"

"I started with the lodge, but it was not sufficient. So I moved everything to Giedraičiai Castle. But I'm not sure if I am going to keep it there."

"That's rather large. I saw the Castle from a distance when I travelled here."

"It is. But the lodge was too small."

Mr. Jakov nodded.

"Your mother will be here in an hour for your Italian lessons. Do you wish some time for yourself?"

"I am going outside. I want to walk in the snow."

.

Hannibal exhaled and saw his breath freeze in the cold air. He walked in the garden, but got tired of that quickly. He had been warned to stay near the lodge, but Hannibal had seen the garden enough lately. He wanted to explore the woods. He crossed the garden and followed a path through the trees. The dark forest immediately surrounded him, the snow muffled the sound. This was a completely different sensation than walking in the garden, he mused. He could feel the sunlight and shadow alternating on his skin as he walked. He heard some sounds of small animals; mostly birds, one rabbit. He walked very quietly. But he knew they would hear him when he came too close. He had heard a few birds taking of. The forest was overgrown with all sorts of bushes, Hannibal could not see beyond a few yards. But he would not get lost, he had only proceeded along the path.

Maybe half an hour later he smelled something familiar. He stopped. The tip of his tongue slipped out for an instant, then it crawled back. With his eyes closed, Hannibal tested the air he had breathed. He smelled, among other scents, his father. But when he opened his eyes, he still could not see him. He focused on his hearing, trying to locate his father by sound. After a few moments, he heard a slight movement from behind a group of conifer trees that were next to the path some yards further up the path. That could only be his father. So Hannibal left the path too. Slowly and very carefully, he advanced. He walked a semi-circle and as he neared, he saw his father, squatted down. His hunting rifle was in his hands. Hannibal hid behind another bush. He knew his father was a good hunter, but that he never hunted near a path. Yet, there he was. What was he hunting?

Hannibal listened and smelled, but noticed nothing out of the ordinary. He saw his father shaking; he was getting cold from sitting and waiting. Then he took out his watch briefly to check the time, and remained seated. Hannibal could see his fathers hands tightening around the rifle. It was time, but for what?

Then he heard a fallen branch breaking as someone stepped on it, far away. But his father had not heard. A minute past by. Then he heard a bird taking off, a moment later he saw the woodpecker fly away. His father had heard it too. Hannibal saw the muscles in his back tense. More silence. Then, slowly, his father taking aim. In the silent forest, the shot his father fired sounded like a thunder. A few seconds later, his father rose and carefully walked the path. Hannibal left his hiding place and followed his father secretly.

On the path was a man, facedown. It was a soldier. His uniform had a stain, deep red. Hannibal's father checked the man's pockets. The man did not move. He read some papers he had taken from the man, pocketed some of them. Then he stood up, lifted the man by his coat and belt and threw him in the dense bushes next to the path. Hannibal remained where he was, a few yards away.

When Count Lecter turned around and saw Hannibal, he froze. Hannibal did not move or speak. He approached his son and gently turned him around. They walked back to the lodge. First in silence, but after a few minutes, the Count spoke.

"The Germans are not the liberators some people think they are. They are simply expanding their territory. Some say that not all Germans are like that. But if he is not like that, why is he here? The man I killed had a name. Karlheinz Klopweisser. There's a good chance he has a wife, maybe children too. If we had met him in a different situation, maybe we would have been friends. But he was a German soldier and he was here, so I killed him."

Hannibal nodded. They continued their walk to the lodge in silence. Count Lecter had his hand on his son's shoulder. We cannot tell if he wanted to reassure his son, or that he needed a bit of support himself.


	13. Chapter 13

**Chapter 13**

"Today, Hannibal, we continue reading Caius Julius Caesar. Let his clear and polished Latin warm our minds, let our sterling labour warm our bodies on this chill April morning."

Hannibal looked up at Mr. Jakov and could not help smiling.

"It is hard to conjure a smile on your face, Hannibal. But when one succeeds, the reward of your smile is invaluable."

"I have heard that some of the servants at the Castle were afraid of me. I doubt they appreciated my smile."

"If other people don't like you, or are afraid of you, is of no importance. It does not change who you are. I am a Jew. In Leipzig were a lot of people who did not like me. But that did not alter me. Only my circumstances did. I am I."

Hannibal nodded, indicating he understood.

"Shall we commence on Caesar? I chose book 6, chapter 16. I read, you write it down. Then translate the text. Are you ready?"

"I am."

"Natio est omnis Gallorum admodum dedita religionibus, ..." started Mr. Jakov, and paused. With other students, he often had to reread a sentence. With Hannibal, he only needed to pause to give him time to write down the words. The moment Hannibal was ready, he continued reading out the text.

"...atque ob eam causam, qui sunt adfecti gravioribus morbis quique in proeliis

periculisque versantur, ..."

As Hannibal wrote down the words, he asked a question.

"Mr. Jakov, if circumstances do not change a person, why are people so anxious to be in agreeable surroundings with people they like?"

"...aut pro victimis homines immolant aut se immolaturos vovent administrisque ad ea sacrificia druidibus utuntur, quod, ... Don't think everybody is as fully developed as you are, Hannibal. There are only a few people that truly understand their situation," Mr. Jakov answered.

"Then how do they live? How do they know what to do?"

"...pro vita hominis nisi hominis vita reddatur, non posse deorum immortalium numen placari arbitrantur, ... They don't know. They are ignorant of all those circumstances, they believe what they do is the only important thing. They don't give their actions serious consideration."

"That's hard to believe."

"...publiceque eiusdem generis habent instituta sacrificia. Alii immani magnitudine simulacra habent, ... It is hard to believe to those who do. Most people just are. They live their lives, thinking about how things were, trying to keep things like that today and hoping that tomorrow will be the same."

"Isn't tomorrow then important?"

"...quorum contexta viminibus membra vivis hominibus complent; quibus succensis circumventi flamma exanimantur homines. ... It is my personal opinion that tomorrow is not important. There is only now. There is no tomorrow because tomorrow is the excuse."

"And yesterday?"

"...Supplicia eorum qui in furto aut in latrocinio aut aliqua noxia sint comprehensi gratiora dis immortalibus esse arbitrantur; ... Yesterday is what drives us today. If you don't know history, you're bound to repeat the errors of yesterday today."

"Only now? Mama tells me there is a life after this life."

"...sed, cum eius generis copia defecit, etiam ad innocentium supplicia descendunt. ... Now, that's another story. How today's actions influence a life after this life, has nothing to do with my 'tomorrow'. By the way, we've completed the text. When I say 'tomorrow', I mean tomorrow in the present life. Live today, act today, your actions can account for an afterlife, but tomorrow – the possibility of another day of life – is of no importance. Now, please hand me your paper."

While Mr. Jakov read the dictation, Hannibal strolled over to the bookcase. He took a book, Hesiod's Theogony, and started to read at a random page.

_But Rhea was subject in love to Cronos and bare splendid children, Hestia, Demeter, and gold-shod Hera and strong Hades, pitiless in heart, who dwells under the earth, and the loud-crashing Earth-Shaker, and wise Zeus, father of gods and men, by whose thunder the wide earth is shaken. These, great Cronos swallowed as each came forth from the womb to his mother's knees with this intent, that no other of the proud sons of Heaven should hold the kingly office amongst the deathless gods._

He decided to read this book later so he returned it to its proper place. Perceiving that Mr. Jakov was still busy checking his spelling, he took another book. It's cover told him it was Marcus Aurelius' Meditations. He opened it, but before he could start reading, Mr. Jakov spoke.

"You have made no errors. By the way, I believe it would be better if you would read that book in a few years. Marcus Aurelius wrote this book for his own guidance and self-improvement. I think you should read it when you have grown past being taught, like the writer himself."

Hannibal turned around and looked at his teacher.

"Yes, Mr. Jakov."

He replaced the book respectfully.


	14. Chapter 14

Chapter 14

As the first rays of sun broke through the crowns of the trees, the terrifying thundering of artillery fire woke Hannibal from his silent sleep. For a moment, he thought it was thunder. Alas, it was not so. Some of the grenades shook the earth enough for Hannibal to feel the house tremble. He rose and walked over to his washing bowl. The water vibrated without pause. He washed himself as carefully as normal, then got into the clothes Nurse had laid out for him the previous night. Quietly, since he assumed not everybody would be awake yet, he walked to the kitchen. As he passed other bedrooms, he noticed more doors ajar and beds empty than regular. In the kitchen, he found almost everybody. Only nurse and Mischa were not present.

"Good morning, Hannibal. I hope you slept better than you awoke?"

"Yes, mother. I have rested well. I hope you have slept well too?"

"Yes, I have. Berndt, could you please serve Hannibal his breakfast?"

"Yes, Madame."

Hannibal sat down at the table. His father addressed him.

"Hannibal, today will be a serious day for us all. I'm sure you'll understand the deviation from our customary routine. No lessons, no playing outside, no music. We must draw as little attention as possible. Will you help Nurse keep an eye on Mischa? Entertain her, so to say?"

"Of course, papa. Mr. Jakov, I'm sorry there will be no lessons today."

"I am sorry too, but it is best if we stay focused on the war efforts. If things need to be done, we must be ready to do them at once, we must not falter."

"If the Russians proceed as they have been doing the last weeks, they will have passed by in a day, I believe," his father said.

"And I hope they will," Mr. Jakov added with a wry smile.

"But somehow I don't believe Russia will liberate us, and then grant us our own country and freedom. Remember, it were the Germans that drove them out."

Berndt handed Hannibal his breakfast. Hannibal thought he looked sad.

"That is correct," spoke Mr. Jakov. "Yet, circumstances are different now. We will see."

"Maybe we will, and maybe we won't. But I will not stand still while watching."

"Giedrius," said Simonetta, a slight hint of reproach in her voice. Giedrius looked at her, then knew and kept silent. Mr. Jakov patted Hannibal on his back and smiled.

"No matter what happens, Hannibal, tomorrow we will start on integral calculus."

Hannibal looked at him. He smiled back, but he could smell the fear in the man.

.

At noon, the war had completely reached the estate. They could hear engines in the distance. Every now and then, shells struck the forest, blowing away trees and uprooting them, leaving dark scars in the earth. The forest was the innocent bystander getting shot.

General Kuzma Galitsky led his Eleventh Guards Army forward, pushing forward Reinhardt-Bossen's Third Pantzer Army, his only consideration, naturally, being progress.

In the lodge, all became more agitated and irritable as the day proceeded and the fighting continued, while they were confined to the lodge on this warm July day. Mischa had been angry that morning that she could not go outside and watch the 'tunder', as she pronounced it. Hannibal had calmed her by cutting little stamps of feet from wood, and having her make a trail of mini footprints of water on the floor. It was summer, and the sun shone as heartily as ever, but the atmosphere in the lodge was heavy and thick, not even Mischa's spells of laughter could brighten it completely.

After lunch, Nurse read her fairy-tales, Mischa sitting in Hannibal's lap, playing with the buttons of his shirt. All the while, Hannibal visited his Palace and enjoyed paintings he had once seen in an art catalogue. He liked the bright colors of Monet's 'Rue Montorgueil' and 'Poppies blooming', and the leashed energy in Degas' 'At the races'. It would be nice to see them in real once, he mused.

.

In the evening, a constant downpour started that transferred the day from its own bright presence to the sad grayness of war. The absolute zero of optimism was reached - every member of the lodge household was dead tired after the constant watchfulness they had held upright during the day. Slowly, they gathered in the living room. At first, their silence hung in the room like a thick fog, only the explosions from outside that had slightly grown fainter were heard. But soon, a small conversation started. The built up emotions had to be vented. Giedrius decided to put the children to bed before engaging in the conversation and rose.

"Hannibal, Mischa, time to go to bed."

Nurse started to rise, but the Count motioned he needed no help.

"I don't want to go, papa," said Mischa.

"Then how come I saw you yawn just a minute ago? Come here, I'll carry you!"

"Like a baby?"

"Yes, like a baby," said Giedrius and lifted the child in his arms.

"Say goodbye to everyone, Mischa, Hannibal."

"Goodbye everyone," they said.

Everybody wished them a good night. Giedrius walked away and glanced at Hannibal to see if he was following. As they left the room, the Akita followed his master.

.

"I am 'fraid, papa."

"I understand. That's why I decided to let Hannibal sleep with you tonight, he'll be there to watch over you. He'll be here in a moment."

"I like that."

"I thought you would. Ah, there he is."

Hannibal entered the little girl's room, got into bed next to her, their father wished them both good night and left the room. He did not hear the Akita follow, so he looked around. The dog had settled at the foot end of the bed, clearly intending to spend the night with the children.

"Are you going to watch over Mischa too?" asked Giedrius.

The dog slightly lifted his head, returned his gaze, then lied down again.

"All right. See you tomorrow."

He left the room and shut the door.

Mischa settled in the blankets and sighed.

"I don't like the tunder, Anniba."

"Neither do I, Mischa. But we cannot stop it. Try to get some sleep, I'll bet tomorrow will be silent."

"Yes, Hannibal."

She closed her eyes. Hannibal closed his too. The sound was still quite intrusive, but bearable. But it just kept on going. If he listened really intensely, he could distinguish some of the noises. There was a deep rumble every minute or so, a less deep thumping every forty seconds. And whistling noises, too. He could hear the whistling and shrieking sound of the grenades and shells. He noticed the frequency of their sound varied as they flew.

Then he heard one, at first the same as the others, but then quickly gaining volume. Its whistle turned into a loud scream. Hannibal opened his eyes, he saw Mischa and sensed her fear. Then the shell struck. A deafening explosion shook the lodge to its foundation.

Hannibal noticed he started to experience time differently. His senses deepened, things appeared to slow down, he could make out details he normally could not. At first, the sound stretched out. Then he heard more sounds. Beams cracking, further down the lodge. The Akita rising and barking incessantly. Objects falling over. His sister inhaling. He looked at her. Her chest heaved, her shoulders rose, and as she reached her maximum lung capacity, he watched her muscles contract and push the air out. Her scream pierced his ears. Then he felt the floor move. He turned his head to see, and saw the floor bulge. Cracks appeared. Dust fell from the ceiling. For a moment, he thought the house was going to collapse. But then things settled down. Hannibal's sense of time returned to normal. Only Mischa kept on screaming for a while.


	15. Chapter 15

Chapter 15

Hannibal took his sister in his arms, but she did not respond at first. Only after a few moments did she register his comfort. Her screaming subsided into sobbing.

Hannibal heard nobody coming. Mischa's crying could not have been overheard by papa and mama or Nurse, he was positive something was wrong. The Akita still barked, and Hannibal looked at the dog. It was clearly very agitated and eager to go and see, but it still dared not, yet. Hannibal rose, lifted Mischa in his arms, and signaled to the dog to follow. The three of them carefully advanced. Hannibal picked up a saline smell. As they neared the living room, the damage got worse. The walls were quite cracked, the floor even more awry. The door to the living room had been blown out of its hinges into the halls, they had to climb over it.

Had Hannibal known what they would find, he would not have taken Mischa with him. The scene before them was etched permanently in their memory. The shell they had heard, had struck the ground only a few yards away from the outer wall of the lodge. The explosion had blown the wall in, the stones and timber had flown through the room, maiming and killing the occupants. Hannibal heard a soft moan. Mischa heard it too, and winced. He put her down gently and checked on everyone.

Ernst had sat against the wall, Hannibal saw various parts of him on the other side of the room. Berndt had sat there too, he noticed. Nurse and Lothar had been sitting on one side of the room. They had been crushed by the roof that had fallen down. One of the beams that had broken, had crushed Lothar's upper legs and nearly separated them from his body, but Hannibal saw he was still breathing with gasps. He did not react as Hannibal neared him and touched him on the shoulder. Hannibal moved on. The Akita had entered the room too, sniffing everywhere, and whining. Nurse's head was one bloody mess – the beam had crushed it. Actually, saying her head had been smashed away was a better description.

Hannibal climbed over the debris, careful of the small fires that had been lit by the shell explosion, to the other side of the room where papa and mama had sat. They had been bombarded with bricks from the blown up wall. Mama was a mess. Wood and stones had broken her bones. Her dress had lighted, she was on fire. Hannibal smelled her flesh burning, it infested his nose. But the sky cried over her and the rain extinguished the flames. Papa had sat next to him, he had also been bombed, but like Lothar, he was not dead yet too. And, like Lothar, he did not respond to anything Hannibal did. After a few moments, his shallow breathing simply halted. Hannibal turned to Mischa, saw she was not doing well, and decided to get her back to bed right away.

He lifted the little girl again and walked her to her bedroom, the dog followed them, its tail between its legs. Mischa did not utter a word, she kept her eyes wide open, and breathed heavily. She did not respond to Hannibal's comforting words. He gently put her back to bed, got in himself too. The dog jumped on the bed and settled at their feet, shaking.

.

Mischa had fallen asleep after an hour, but Hannibal remained awake. He was sleepy, but slept not. He heard the noise of the war slowly fade away. At midnight, it was almost completely gone. He was still trying to decide what to do. And he could not.

Here he was, a five-and-a-half year old child, with his three year old sister, with no living person around for miles, in a partially blown-up lodge. There were enough provisions to last quite a while, he knew. And he knew he was able to take care of them for a while. But in the end, they would need help. Hannibal could not decide whether to leave the lodge with his sister first thing tomorrow, remain at the lodge for a while, or wait there until someone found them.

Not being able to decide tortured him. But, as the night was nearing its darkest hour, he knew what to do. He thought of Mischa, and decided he would not keep her near the dead. Tomorrow, they would pack as much provisions as they could, and go East. Away from the war. Hannibal knew he would be heading away from the town also, but he did not want to bring Mischa any nearer to the war than necessary. And, with that decided, he fell asleep.

The rain that had fallen during the night, had extinguished all fires. The clouds slowly dissolved. A deep silence fell over the forest. All animals had fled. Only humans remained. Soldiers. And, following in the footsteps of the war, others, too...

.

"If only these kids were stronger," grumbled Joe as he neared the child that had fallen.

"Pick up the bag and keep walking!" he shouted at the girl, and he kicked one of her legs. The girl winced and cried, but to no avail.

"I tripped over something. It's dark!" she said.

"I don't care! Get up and walk!" Joe kicked her again. The pain showed in her face but the girl rose and picked up the large backpack. She hauled it on her shoulders and followed the other children again. Joe walked right behind her, closing the line, to make sure she and the others kept walking.

"Joe!" yelled a man from halfway the line.

"Yeah?"

"You still have some cocaine?"

"Sure!"

"Give me one."

"Why should I?"

"Man, I need it. I can't feel my legs from all this walking!"

"Okay. Just fall back, I have to keep watching them here."

Junka halted and waited for Joe to catch up with him. He held out his hand, and Joe got him one of his 'Forced March' pills. Eagerly, Junka took it from him and swallowed it.

"Thanks, man!"

"Fuck you. You owe me money anyway, I'll add this."

"Fuck!"

Joe laughed and walked on. Joe gritted his teeth but walked back to his place in the line.

At the front, Adam carefully advanced, trying to avoid either army. They had Red Cross bandages around their arms, but the fact that they were walking would not add to their credibility. That idiot Paul should have driven more careful.

The dark slowly dissolved as the sun neared the horizon. They had been walking all night and Adam was eager to find a place so he could rest and decide how to proceed. He was dead tired. He only saw trees and had to force his legs to keep on going. Then he saw a clearing in the forest and the silhouette of a building. Thinking his eyes were tricking him, he shook his head and found he had not been hallucinating. He immediately turned around and gave an alert. The group stopped at once. Then he motioned for Joe and Paul. When they had approached him, he softly gave his commands and the two advanced carefully towards the building.


	16. Chapter 16

_With the Holidays ahead, I'm sure you all will understand my decision not to post another chapter until January._

_Up till now, I published one chapter each four or five days.  
In January, it will be one chapter per week, as I had intended when I started to publish.  
I need some time to stay ahead with my writing... not writer's block, just so much other things to do._

_Merry Christmas and a Happy New Year to everybody!_

_Ps: it would be nice, if you read my story, to post a review. I would like to know how feel about it.  
And my sincere thanks to those people who have reviewed :-)_

**Chapter 16**

Joe was first to reach the house. Quietly he approached it, careful not to make any noise. Slowly he moved further until he stood at a window and could see through the glass. It took him only a second to register the damage inside. If people were in this house now, it would not be regular inhabitation. He decided to change tactics. He walked back to Paul, winked, and talked in a perhaps bit too loud voice to him.

"This house has been bombed, the back wall has been blown in. I can see people, they look all dead but you never know. We'll go in right away, you never know if there is a survivor. I don't think we need the help of the others, so we won't have to wait for them."

Paul nodded. Joe continued to look at him. Then Paul understood.

"Okay. I'll come with you right away."

They turned towards the door and started to walk.

"Anybody in there? We're from the Red Cross, we're here to help!" shouted Joe. He looked at Paul as they got closer and closer. A slight exhilarating sensation came over him. Chances were the building had been abandoned, as they had come across before. But Joe's hand slowly moved towards his gun, hidden in his coat, as he stretched his hand towards the doorknob.

"We're coming in, don't be afraid!" he called, but no answer came.

He quickly opened the door, he needed to push quite hard since some debris was behind it. He rushed in, saw no movement. Paul entered right behind him.

"Red Cross! It's okay!" Joe called again as he walked through the room. It was evident the house had been bombed very recently. All the dead were still there, and they were unharmed by scavengers. He stepped outside briefly and waved at the others to approach. Adam and Junka led the children towards the house. Joe stepped back inside. He told Paul to search the left side of the house, while he would take the right side. He stepped over the door that had been blown out of its hinges and proceeded down the hall. The floor creaked as he walked over it.

"Red Cross! Don't be scared! We're here to help!" he called once again as he approached the first door. When he opened it, he saw just an empty bathroom. He walked on. The next room was empty too, a bedroom. He carefully checked all rooms, his hand on the gun. From the outside, it had not appeared to be that large, but it contained more rooms than he had expected.

As he neared the last door, he heard a noise. A growling noise, an animal. He took the gun out of its holster and held it ready. One step forward. Stretching out his left arm. A slight push against the door. It opened, but not completely. A dog barking. Trouble. He kicked in the door, stepped in and saw the dog breaking free. Loudly barking, it jumped at him, and with lightning speed, Joe aimed and fired. The dog yelped and did not finish his jump. He shot it again as it lay on the floor. Then he looked at the bed and saw a boy, sitting upright, his hands on the shoulder of a girl lying in bed. His gun already pointed in their direction, but Joe saw no imminent danger. He did not shoot. No, they could use the kids.

"That's our breakfast today," he said. "Now get up."

He saw the boy helping the girl get up. He was very gentle with her. Maybe he's a bit too normal, he thought. Yes, that was it. Joe realized the boy did not seem afraid, while the girl constantly looked at him and trembled as she saw him and his gun. Her eyes never left him, while the boy helped her as if nothing was the matter. At first, Joe thought nothing of it, then he slowly got angrier and angrier. Then the lack of fear, or better said: the lack of attention infuriated him. He crossed the room and gave the boy a smack on the head. But the boy did not cry out. He not even turned around to look at him. It enraged Joe even further, so he pulled him away from the girl and threw him out the door. Then he lifted the girl by her arm and dragged her along as he walked out of the room. He shoved the boy with his foot further down the hall.

.

"I found these two," said Joe as he re-entered the living room. "I shot their dog."

"Great. Get them over there with the rest of the sherpas," answered Adam. "Junka, you guard the kids. Joe, start collecting the valuables, search the dead and the house. Paul?"

"Yeah?"

"You collect too."

"Damn. I need a rest."

"You can rest when you're done. Now, move."

With a curse, Paul headed to one of the bodies and started to search. Adam approached the two kids, who had sat down among the other children. Only the girl turned her head to him, it seemed as if the boy had not heard him. Adam grabbed the boy by his jaw and turned his face so he would see him. He saw the unknown bright and deep maroon eyes master him. A certain uneasiness came over him. He pushed the feeling away and spoke, his voice a note higher than normal, maybe.

"Now tell me, who are you and how many people were here? These people haven't been dead long, you must know."

The boy did not respond. He did not even show if he had heard or understood. The girl turned her head away and started to cry. He turned to her.

"Tell me!" he yelled and slapped her across her face. Adam did not even see the boy move. But the next thing he knew was that he was on his back, with a furious _Kauka_ on him, hitting him, thrashing him. Then a burning feeling in his left arm, the little bastard had cut him, and deep! Lucky for him, Paul got hold of the boy at that moment, and knocked him out. The penknife fell from his hand and fell to the floor. It landed on its point and stood upright. Its blade was red with blood.

"Shit! What the fuck was that? The bastard had a knife! Damn, he really got me in my arm! I'll kill Joe for not searching him. Damn! Paul, do something, bind the wound."

"Yes, Adam," said Paul and he quickly went to the backpacks for a medical kit, afraid Adam would get angry at him.

When Paul had taken care of his wound and had returned to his job, Adam sat down and looked at the boy, still unconscious.

"What a devil!" murmured he. "But we need all the children, can't kill him."

Adam heard Joe returning from his pillaging.

"Junka, I want you and Joe to lock the children in the barn and cook the dog after that. We will rest today and get the rest of our stuff from the truck tomorrow. Damn that idiot Paul!"

"Sure," said Junka, not wanting to disturb Adam now... He gave Joe a warning look.

"When we've gathered all our stuff, we'll search for a new truck from here. I think we have gathered enough now, especially with this jackpot we found. Full house."


	17. Chapter 17

_Happy new year to everyone.  
Let's do our best to make 2010 the best year ever.  
I mean, in the real world. In fiction, we can act as we wish, right?_

**Chapter 17**

To the looter's frustration, they spent weeks trying to find another means of transportation, but they could find none. The war machine kept on running, though. With each day, they were more and more separated from the frontline, in whose aftermath the chances were best of finding abandoned wheels and procuring loot. They were very concerned. They knew they would be sitting ducks if they were found.

But as the days passed by and they encountered not a single soul, but most of all, they saw the reserves of food in the lodge and the vegetable garden, their restlessness slowly dissipated. When autumn fell upon them, they decided to search one more month. If nothing would be found, they would winter here.

Junka was a good cook. The dog had been prepared into quite a meal for them. The children had, of course, not been given any meat, only some broth and bread. After that, he cooked with the fresh vegetables from the garden, combined with the reserves of the lodge. This way, he could make use of the garden as long as possible, without exhausting it soon.

.

But Junka was not a gardener, he knew not how to take care of the garden. Slowly, it overgrew with weeds. And he did not prepare the garden for new growth. So, after a few months, as winter started to fall upon the land, stifling it with its cold winds, he found the garden empty. It had not sufficed to maintain them as long as he had hoped it would.

Junka would have to make do with the reserves. But he proposed to slaughter and eat the horse first, which was gladly accepted by the others. As he went to the stable and walked the horse out, Hannibal watched him through a cracks in the barn. He saw the man shoot Licorne in the head. The horse fell to the ground immediately. It wasn't really a comfort knowing the horse had not suffered.

After that, the looters had plenty of food for a while. They had a few days of merriment as they drank the last bottles of wine and liquor. No longer very frightened to be discovered, they started to warm the house, using the logs they found stacked in the garden.

.

The children were very frightened of the men now, when they saw them come outside. After the children had brought the last loot from the broken truck to the lodge, they had been locked in the barn again.

Once a day, they were fed something, and they only had a few moments a day to use the stool-pit they had had to dig for themselves and the looters. Sometimes, one of the children was taken out of the barn to play. The others noticed these children never returned, though.

.

Once the reserves of wood were gone, the looters found enough other things in the house to burn in the hearth. The beams that had fallen down, doors, there were quite a lot of things they could use for fuel.

One day, they decided to burn the harpsichord. The sounds it made while being broken to pieces were heard by Hannibal in the barn. He closed his eyes, visited his Palace, and found it still complete there, with his mother at the keyboard, softly playing. That was a memory he would cherish forever.

.

Then, on an awful cold day, perhaps one of the last days of 1944, he heard the looters passing the barn. Hannibal watched them through the crack. They were dragging a little deer with them, a rope around its neck. It was a miserable, little deer, scrawny. It had an arrow in it. They pulled the rope, not wanting to carry it, to save their energy. They needed every nourishment they could get now. But the deer resisted fiercely, pulling the line twisted around his neck.

Because their supply of ammunition had become minimal, they decided to knock it off its legs. Then they cut his throat with an axe. When they found they had forgotten a bowl for the blood, they cursed. One of them ran into the lodge for one, while the others kneeled down and tried to save the blood with their hands. It kept the men from coming to the barn for three days. But when those days had passed, they did visit the barn again.

.

Hannibal heard the men come out of the house. They were either swearing or silent. Hannibal knew they were coming for another child, to play. He looked at the others. Two kids against the other wall, who had not spoken a word since they had been locked in the barn.

And Mischa next to him, mostly curled up like a fetus. Mischa had not spoken a word too since that accursed evening. The only talking she did was while she was sleeping and having nightmares. At those moments, Hannibal heard her say the things she had said that fatal night.

But Hannibal had talked a lot to her during the days, tried to have a conversation with her, to keep her active and alive. He had recited whole fairy-tales. Before, the story of Eglė had been her favorite, but now it seemed she did not even hear it. Hannibal knew nothing of posttraumatic stress disorder, catatonia, et cetera yet.

He looked through the crack and saw them approach, working their way through the snow. He knew one of them was about to be carried away, but Hannibal did not ponder on who was going to be next. It was useless. It was better to stay alert.

When the men neared the barn, Hannibal could smell them. Their long overcoats carried a poignant stench of stale sweat. The breath from their mouths steamed in the cold, Hannibal saw the vapors volatilize, and feared he had no choice but to inhale them as they would enter the barn and befoul the air in there.

The door was unlocked, the men entered. Hannibal knew it was the man Junka that had picked the children each time. He was going to do so now too. He saw him walk over to the other children first, he saw him feel their arms and legs. Then he came towards them. The man hunched over him, and felt his thigh, upper arm and chest.

Then he went over to his sister. He felt her, then decided she would do. He stooped down to get her on her feet. Hannibal noticed the large one, Paul, had neared as Junka had examined them, to scare him off.

But Hannibal did not care. He did not want to lose Mischa. So, as Junka pulled her up and put her on her feet, Hannibal jumped to his feet, dodged Paul and wrapped his arms around Mischa. He would not let them take her! When they found Hannibal was not attacking them, but only holding his sister, they just dragged her, and Hannibal along. But when they had reached the door, Paul slammed it into Hannibal, cracking the bone in his upper arm, forcing him to let her go.

They shut the door and locked it again, leaving Hannibal as he was. Crying, in pain and because of this loss. There was only one thing he could do: he could pray like his mother. So he prayed. He prayed fervently he wanted to see Mischa again. But as he prayed, he heard the sound of the axe anyway.


	18. Chapter 18

**Chapter 18**

The next two days were spent in agony and pain. Hannibal's broken arm turned black and blue. The other children could do nothing for him, and were afraid to. Not just because of what the men might do to them if they found out, but also because of Hannibal himself. They had seen him taking care of his sister in a very affectionate way, but the boy radiated something frightening. They had not talked to each other during all those months of captivity. They did not feel like doing that now too.

After the axe, Hannibal had fainted. When he came by, he decided that God was not what his mother had told him. He did not know he would add something else to his vision of God soon.

As he felt his arm, shots of pain flashed trough him, but he could feel the bones and he observed they were broken but aligned. It would heal right, as long as he could keep it secure. He made himself a sling, preferring the cold over a useless arm.

The next two days, as the men left them alone, were survived by lying in the little hay that was left. He slept and ignored the pain. But then the men came to the barn again. All three of them were hauled outside and put to work. They had to dig a new stool-pit for the looters. The old one, between the lodge and the barn, was not serviceable anymore. They were ordered to dig a new one, and cover the old one with the ground they dug up. The two others were given sticks and other tools to use as shovels, Hannibal had to move the earth.

His first trip was an absolute horror. It started with the pain he felt in his arm. The movements he had to make caused his arm to throb and ache beyond normally tolerable. So Hannibal, as he neared the old stool-pit, decided he would try to partially visit the Memory Castle and lest his body rest there in a hot bath. But the moment he had decided to do that, and was about to commence his visit to Giedraičiai Castle, he reached the reeking stool-pit and registered what was residing in it. He saw a few of Mischa's milk teeth. An unnerving nausea hit him instantly and the little that was in his stomach refused to remain there, the vomit spouted out of his mouth, into the stool-pit, covering its contents, Hannibal could no longer see the teeth. But his body was beyond control now, uncontrollable spasms shook his body and made him retch again and again, as if purging his bowels would purge his mind of the image. He fell over, landed on his broken arm, cried out loud as the pain surged through his body. His mind and body were aching, trying to outdo each other.

.

The men had seen him throw up and fall down, but leniency wasn't in these men's dictionaries. Joe walked over to him, told him to get up. When the boy did not rise, he poked him with his foot, cautious that the boy would not surprise him as he had surprised Adam once. But still, he would not get up. So he kicked him a bit harder. That helped. The boy started to move and groaned. Joe smiled. The boy gave him the creeps and infuriated him when he did not seem to notice Joe existed. Getting his attention was one of Joe's ways of climbing up the satisfaction ladder.

Hannibal could not flee to his Memory Castle now. The pain was too much for him, an almost six year old nobody's boy. He could only hope to endure the time to come. He forced himself up. Pain and nausea came and went by in waves. When the pain finally had ebbed away enough for him to get up, he could not help crying. Yes, he had seen Mischa, as he had asked God fervently in his prayers. But now he found God in irony matchless. Surely, this was malice beyond measure. It were bitter tears he cried. He had lost his sister and his faith.

.

And again, Hannibal's world changed within a few seconds with a bang.

The plane had approached unnoticed, only when it started its descent did they hear it. Adam was the first to look up and see the plane in its dive, nearing quickly. He heard the ripping noise of its piston-engine. But this was not a strafing run, there was no gunfire from the plane. Adam realized what was about to happen and yelled to run and take cover. The men and the children looked up, then scattered immediately. The men ran into the forest, the children first held each other in bewilderment, then ran for the barn. But Hannibal did not run. He watched the plane, he saw it coming closer and closer. And as the plane neared the low of its flight-path, its engine screaming along with the people on the ground, Hannibal could see a woman at the control wheel. Then the bombardier of the Petlyakov Pe-2 crew did his job. With an enormous blast and ear-violating racket, the bomb struck the lodge and blew it to smithereens. The blast blew Hannibal yards away, he landed hard against the wall of the barn. He fell on the ground and lost consciousness.

He came by when someone touched his broken arm. With a jolt, he opened his eyes and grabbed the wrist with the hand of his good arm.

"Seems the little bugger is fine," said Joe, and freed himself. "Get up, we're leaving."

Hannibal turned his head. He saw the lodge had been blown apart. A fire was devouring its remains. It was clear nothing could be saved from the lodge anymore. The clothes they wore and the guns the men carried was what they had. Adam called for Joe.

"Yeah, I'm coming," yelled Joe and got up. Then he pulled Hannibal up, and made him walk in front of him. When they had reached Adam and Paul, Joe warned him not to try anything, or he would shoot him right away.

"Where's Junka?" Joe asked.

"He went for the two others."

"What now?"

"Get out of here. We have nothing left, we will have to find food and find a car or a truck so we can get out of here as soon as possible."

"Damn that plane! Now we have nothing left!"

"I know. But we're alive. Which is more than we can say of the kids, I believe. There's Junka, alone. Let's go."


	19. Chapter 19

**Chapter 19**

As the men walked and made sure Hannibal stayed with them, they remained silent for quite a while. So, as the men did not bother with him too much, he decided now would be a good time to visit his Memory Castle and see if there were any _tableaux_ in it that were superfluous, at the same time finding a nice place for Mischa.

As he entered the foyer in his mind, he decided to stay there a while first. He watched the candlesticks, and thought new, yellow candles would be just perfect for the foyer. So he visited the store-room and returned with the new candles. He put them in place, then closed the curtains to heighten the effect of the new candles. That was much better. The room had gained in comfort and privacy.

After walking around the foyer for a while and enjoying its calmness, Hannibal started for his sister's room. First, down the corridor that started next to the wonderful, wide stairs.

But there was something wrong there... Hannibal was sure there had only been two doors on the left, one at the beginning of the corridor and one at the end. Now there were three. There had appeared a door between the two. It was closed. Carefully, Hannibal approached it. It was in size just like the others, but it had an image on it. A woman. It was the picture of a beautiful evil, dressed in a silvery gown, with an ornate crown of gold. Curiosity compelled him to open the door. The moment the door had been opened, Hannibal could feel something had been set free that should not have been freed. It froze his breath and sent shivers down his spine.

He closed the door, but it was too late. A stale stench filled the corridor. Hannibal could hardly breathe and he tried to find his way back. But in his confusion, he lost his way and went the wrong direction. The door he opened did not lead him back to the foyer, but straight into the basement, where the oubliettes were. Hannibal took two steps inside, then stopped at once as he saw he stood at the edge of one of the oubliettes. He did not fall in, but he did see what was inside. He saw it was filled with excrements, like a stool-pit. The stench was horrific. Then he saw a few baby teeth in it, and fainted.

.

"What happened, Joe?" asked Adam.

"I dunno. He was going just fine, then all of the sudden he cried out and fell down. Is he alive?"

"Yeah. I don't know what's wrong, but we will wait for a moment. If he doesn't come by in a minute, Paul will carry him."

"Aw, Adam. Come on. You're not serious about that, are you?" complained Paul.

"Yes, I am."

"Hey man, I don't want to carry him. If he doesn't wake up, just kill him and butcher him."

"No. We'll do that when we need to, but not yet. And it seems you're lucky. I believe he is reviving."

As soon as Hannibal was up again, they continued to walk. Hannibal did not visit his Memory Castle that day again. He decided to do that in a few days, but only to move his belongings from the castle to a new one, to be built in the days in-between.

.

"I hear something! Quiet!" said Adam.

They had been walking for two hours or so, and had not met anybody along the way. The forest had thinned out a bit, it seemed they were approaching its border. Adam strained to make out what he had heard, but could not. He motioned for the others to follow him. He led them further along the path, careful not to make any noise. Then he recognized the sound, it was an engine, idling. This was an unexpected opportunity for them. So he motioned for Paul and Joe to follow him, and for Junka to wait there with Hannibal.

They hid their guns, and started towards the sound. The path meandered down slowly, and as they walked, a castle came in sight. Luxurious and bright it stood. In the courtyard, a Russian truck. Adrenaline swept through Adam's body.

"Remember, we're Red Cross. Our car broke down. Look helpless at first, I'll signal when to overtake or shoot them."

Paul and Joe nodded. Adam led them. When they had reached the truck, a Russian soldier entered the courtyard. He immediately took his gun and held them at gunpoint. He yelled to them to raise their arms in Russian. Adam translated, Paul and Joe raised their arms, Adam pointed at the Red Cross emblem attached to his arm, then shouted in Russian they were Red Cross as he raised his arms too. Trying to look completely innocent, they just kept on walking and approached the man. The trick worked, and the man lowered his gun and nodded. They lowered their arms.

The man called out and another soldier appeared shortly after that. The first soldier started to explain to him these three men were Red Cross. As soon as Adam could confirm from their conversation his hunch that these two soldiers were the only ones present, he gave the sign. Quickly, they drew their guns and shot them.

"Paul, Joe, get inside and make sure these really were the only two. Be careful, the shots will have warned them."

Joe and Paul ran inside, guns ready. Adam walked around the castle and saw nobody. He heard no shots from inside. Once back in the courtyard, he whistled for Junka to come. When Junka had reached the castle, they went inside too. They met Paul inside first.

"Well, Adam, I think our luck has returned."

"I know. The truck was just what we needed. We were lucky these two soldiers were alone."

"No, I mean something else. You know what? Follow me."

Adam had not seen Paul this excited before, so he decided to humor him, and followed.

They went an awful route past several impossible stairs and doors. It led them to a wine cellar. The soldiers that had been stationed at the castle had drank all the wine. Empty bottles were everywhere on the floor. Both witty and lewd things had been written on the walls.

Adam looked at Paul, who was smiling at Adam's bewildered gaze.

"What's so fortunate about this, Paul?" said Adam, a bit hostile, perhaps.

"This," said Paul, and he pulled the chandelier. A click, and one end of the wine rack moved a few inches. Paul pulled it further and showed Adam a hidden room, stuffed with all kinds of valuables.

"Paul, I believe you are right... "

They went back to the entrance-hall where they met Joe and Junka.

"Have you found anything edible in the castle?" asked Adam.

"I found the supplies of the soldiers. The castle has been plundered."

"Not completely," grinned Adam. "Paul, show us the way to the jackpot again. We have some moving to do. The boy will carry most, of course. Junka, make sure he behaves..."

.

They had loaded the supplies and the art in the truck, and stood outside for a moment, when they heard an engine nearing.

"In the truck, now!" yelled Adam.

The men scrambled and ran for the truck. Junka forgot to take Hannibal with him. He thought about the boy when he had climbed in the truck and Paul was about to drive off.

"The boy!" he yelled.

"Forget him, we have to go now!" Adam replied.

A few seconds later, Paul hit the accelerator pedal and they drove off with spinning tires.

"It's a half-track," said Adam. "Don't worry, we're faster."

The half-track did pursue but - adding another part to their recovered luck – it was indeed slower, and it had to break from the chase after a while. By then, its crew had forgotten about the lonely boy in the courtyard of the castle.


	20. Chapter 20

**Chapter 20**

Long after the truck and the half-track had disappeared, Hannibal still stood like a statue in the courtyard. Not a single movement broke the spell, it was as if the child was part of the built environment. Birds flew by, some landed next to the boy. One grey pigeon took his time picking the ground, looking for something to eat. Its head bobbed up and down. Hannibal watched the bird forage and take off when it was done.

After a few hours, as the dusk fell, people in the village started to prepare their dinners. The wind carried the scent of the food all the way to the castle, the distance it travelled made it almost unnoticeable. Hannibal's nostrils flared and the color and life returned to his eyes. The bright maroon was alive again, but weak. Hannibal started for the Castle.

.

The door creaked terribly as Hannibal opened it. He saw the dirt on the floor. He heard nothing but the wind. He entered his ancestral home. Walking through the rooms, the space they occupied was familiar, but the rooms were not as he remembered them. Their atmosphere had changed, had altered. Familiar windows, but their views were different to Hannibal.

.

When he came to his old bedroom, he found it empty. Nothing remained but small splinters of wood. Judging by the remains in the hearth, everything in his room had been demolished and used as firewood. He looked at the walls and saw others had added their comments to Hannibal's engravings. It was not a thing he normally would have done, but Mischa had insisted on Hannibal writing on the wall, and he had acquiesced, not being able to resist her. After a few moments, Nurse had entered the room and scolded him for it. Then Hannibal remembered Nurse at the lodge, her head one bloody mess. He quickly turned around and left the room.

.

A few moments later, Hannibal found he had entered his mother's room. Better said: the room that had been his mother's. The wooden panels that his mother had brought with her from Italy had been stripped and used as fuel, probably by the soldiers that had occupied the Castle. The hearth once had added to the room a deep, wooden smell, adding to the already warm and comfortable smell his mother had given it with herself and her perfume.

Now, the things that had been burned in the hearth, and the urinating, had completely eliminated the pleasant scent. The room was now stuffy and morose. It smelled like the lodge now. His eyes scanned the space, looking for the clock and the boar's head, but neither were there. He left the room, and though he knew not why, he went downstairs.

.

As he entered the basement, he became anxious. He did not want to go there, but his legs took him deeper into the dark spaces. He passed a few small doors and lost stairs. His knees were shaking, but they kept on going. His arms lifted in an unconscious effort for protection, his hands gripped for the door-posts. But to no avail. Then he saw where he had been heading...

In the deepest recesses of the basement, Hannibal found the ancient oubliette. Hannibal froze as he remembered the terrible visit to the oubliette in his Memory Castle when he had been forced to follow the four looters. But this was not a memory, this was for real. For a moment, he expected he would see the oubliette filled with excrements, and perhaps some baby-teeth. The stench that rose from the old, horrible space, filled his nostrils. The oubliette had been used a few times for sanitary purposes, it incited a feeling of helplessness and horror in Hannibal. Hannibal gripped his arm that had been broken, and cried. The bitter tears welled from the deepest pit in his heart. He mourned. A thin cry escaped him first, then he capitulated. An uncurbed release of grief expelled the smell and misery from his mind, and replaced it with a bitter hatred.

.

When Hannibal was done, the ancestral Giedraičiai Castle was no longer his home. He needed another one, and suddenly he knew where to go. He went back, collected as much food as he could and left, never to return again.


	21. Notes on chapters 1 to 20

I have been adviced to post my notes on chapters, for readers might enjoy them too. A wonderful idea, so here they are.

Wikipedia is, even if we must check its contents, a wonderful source of information. But for my fanfic, I decided to treat the information found there as genuine and true, which made life a lot easier. And if you feel something might be a reference in my story, but you can't find it in these notes, wikipedia it...

**Chapter 1**

_Giedraičiai / Giedraičiai Castle ... built in 1410 / 1809 ... Juozapas ... had the Castle rebuilt in Classicism style ... his heart was immured  
_Wikipedia: Giedraičiai; authentic details for my 'Lecter' Castle

_the coat of arms of the Sforza of __Milan  
_Wikipedia: House_of_Visconti; the coat of arms depicts a serpent _swallowing a man_.

_A small painting of Venice. __Guardi's "View of Santa Maria della Salute", both Bernardo Bellotto's and Canaletto's "The bridge of sighs"  
_Some art, following Hannibal Rising. Why invent something new when it is not needed?

**Chapter 2**

_dark winter day / better unborn  
_Visit the website from the band Amorphis (.net), and look for lyrics. 'Couleur locale' from a few miles away.

_Laimas māte__ /her grandmother Ragana / __a Kauka / Grass Snake  
_Wikipedia: List_of_Lithuanian_gods; some true couleur locale.

_one of the most famous generals to attack Rome [...] Hannibal  
_Wikipedia: Hannibal; the first link to Rome in my story. Hannibal will visit Rome at the end of this fanfiction.

**Chapter 3**

_The government has accepted the ultimatum  
_Wikipedia: History_of_Lithuania#First_Soviet_occupation; an explanation of Count Lecter's nationalism.

_There's always a choice  
_First mention of free will.

_the Soviet-Lithuanian Mutual Assistance Treaty / Soviet occupation of Lithuania  
_Wikipedia: Occupation_of_the_Baltic_states; more information about Lecter's nationalism.

**Chapter 4**

_pinto-colored Akita  
_Wikipedia: Akita_Inu; first link to Dr. Lecters upcoming migration to America, since a pinto-colored Akita is considered an American Akita.

_On the side-table a penknife  
_First of many mentions of (pen)knives as a hobby of Dr. Lecter.

_Suetonius' 'De vita Caesarum', chapter Tiberius Nero Caesar  
_Visit Gutenberg website (.org); this text used as an introduction to Hannibal's flashback.

_First he saw / Something he felt / Hannibal heard someone outside  
_Display of Hannibal's extraordinary senses.

_House of Worth  
_Wikipedia: House_of_worth; fashion as a part of the Lecter family.

_seaweeds that can be eaten / China and Japan consume / nori, aonori, sushi, okonomiyaki  
_Wikipedia: Nori; introduction to Japanese food.

_Hannibal [...] caught a sun flare off the water. It left Hannibal seeing spots for minutes.  
_See Hannibal, chapter 53; where this happens to Hannibal too.

**Chapter 5**

_The burning log filled the room with its deep toned perfume.  
_See Hannibal, chapter 101; there, a log burns too.

_Bach - Sarabande con Partite in C major, BWV 990  
_Wikipedia: List_of_compositions_by_Johann_Sebastian_Bach; a reference to composer Jean-Baptiste de Lully. See chapter 9.

_Scarlatti - Piano sonata in G, K. 108  
_See Hannibal, chapter 33; even if it is another Scarlatti, it's simply a piece suitable for the occasion.

_He smells her soap, it scents of almonds.  
_See Hannibal, chapter 35; Clarice's almonds.

**Chapter 6**

_Licorne  
_French for unicorn, a reference to some upcoming art when Hannibal is in Paris.

_Tempora m__utantur et nos mutamur in illis  
_Wikiquote; quite appropriate for the occasion, is it not?

_tête de poupée  
_Wikipedia: Doll's_head_clock; a fancy and expensive kind of clock.

_Cerberus  
_Wikipedia: Cerberus; a reference to Hades, Dante's Divina Commedia (Third Circle of Hell), and who knows what else.

**Chapter 7**

_He looked around / he could feel / He smelled / He could hear  
_And again, Hannibal's well developed senses.

_I think not  
_See Hannibal, chapter 19; Sogliato's words. No specific meaning, just a pleasant ring to the words.

_a Frankenstein monster  
_Wikipedia: Frankenstein; since the lodge has been constructed in several parts.

**Chapter 8**

_My family name is Sforza.  
_Wikipedia: Sforza; from the Hannibal-trilogy canon.

_But our lineage can be traced back to the Visconti family.  
_Wikipedia: House_of_Visconti; simply more family history.

_Ludovico il Moro took Leonardo da Vinci at his service / Galleazzo Maria Sforza  
_Wikipedia: Leonardo_da_Vinci; the bond between family and art, and Leonardo had a vision as a child, concerning a bird.

_Caterina Sforza  
_Wikipedia: Caterina_Sforza; a very intriguing person.

_Kalevala, the epic poem of Finland, translated by A. Sabaliauskas  
_Wikipedia: Kalevala; couleur locale from a few miles away. Band Amorphis uses the Kalevala as an inspiration for their songs. The translation is, of course, into Lithuanian.

_illustrations by A. Gallen-Kallela / Youkahainen's Revenge  
_Wikipedia: Akseli_Gallen-Kallela; whose paintings for the Kalevala are quite impressive.

_He prepares a cruel cross-bow  
_See Hannibal, chapter 55; where we meet this nice fellow named Donny Barber.

**Chapter 9**

_The harpsichord they had found at the lodge  
_Hannibal likes harpsichords. This is his first meeting with one.

_Jean-Baptiste de Lully / Un tendre coeur / J'ai perdu l'appétit  
_Wikipedia: Jean-Baptiste_Lully; a composer from Florence, Italy, who emigrated to France. Both countries will be visited by Hannibal in my story.

_Nurse had placed the cistern in the middle of the garden...  
_See Hannibal, chapter 53; the bathtub scene.

**Chapter 10**

_Felix Mendelssohn Bartholdy, Lieder ohne Worte, Book 1,movement 3  
_Wikipedia: Felix_Mendelssohn_Bartholdy ; a German and Jew (like Mr. Jakov) composer, child prodigy (like Hannibal might be considered), later turned Lutheran (Clarice). Movement three is the _Hunting song_.

_Carl Gauss  
_Wikipedia: Gauss; child prodigy. Two of his sons migrated to the United States.

_Der Struwwelpeter  
_Wikipedia: Struwwelpeter; no kidding: this book was one of the books my father learned how to read from.

**Chapter 11**

_Hannibal knotted the rope into a hackamore  
_See Silence of the Lambs, chapter 35; Clarice used a rope hackamore to ride Hannah.

_Estate di San Martino  
_Wikipedia: Indian_summer; Italian name for an Indian summer.

_Spring joys, autumn boons  
_Wikipedia: The_Seasons_(poem); a Lithuanian poem, masterpiece in Lithuanian literature.

_Dante tells us that the greatest gift, that God in His kindness, gave in the creation was the freedom of will.  
_Second mention of free will. And this one is of course a quote from Dante's Commedia.

_When establishing a covenant, this treasure is sacrificed.  
_Another quote from Dante's Commedia.

**Chapter 12**

_Euclid  
_Wikipedia: Euclid; his _Elements_ is, after 23 centuries, still the basis of mathematics.

_The tip of his tongue  
_See Hannibal, chapter 53; Hannibal's tongue appears to life a life of its own.

_Karlheinz Klopweisser  
_Wikipedia: Glenn_gould; look for Gould's alter egos.

**Chapter 13**

_Caius Julius Caesar. "De Bello Gallico", book 6, chapter 16.  
_Visit ; introduction for later use of Julius Caesar's mentioning of a 'Wicker man'.

_There is only now. There is no tomorrow because tomorrow is the excuse.  
_From John Le Carré's 'The Russia House'. Reason why we should act now, and not keep from acting because of what tomorrow might bring.

_Hesiod's Theogony  
_Wikipedia: Saturn_(mythology); Adam's (chapter 15) sign is Saturn; which shows in the use of lead, the date of Saturnalia (in the finale of Anniba), cannibalism.

_Marcus Aurelius' Meditations  
_Wikipedia: Marcus_Aurelius ; he wrote this book for his own guidance and self-improvement. See also Silence of the Lambs, chapter 35.

**Chapter 14**

_Monet's 'Rue Montorgueil' and 'Poppies blooming'  
_Wikipedia: Monet; wonderful paintings, back then on display in Paris, at Galerie nationale du Jeu de Paume, now at Musée d'Orsay. The _Rue_ will return in chapter 22.

_Degas' 'At the races'  
_Wikipedia: Degas; mentioning his and Monet's paintings is a reference to Hannibal's living in Paris later.

_"I'll carry you!" / "Like a baby?"  
_A personal note: my child (3 ½ years old when I wrote this), likes this very much.

**Chapter 15**

_Adam Werth / Joe / Junka  
_Wikipedia: Adam_Worth; I used his name to show the 'nemesis' side of this character. Note his assistants in the case of the stolen painting Georgiana.

_Paul Lutus  
_Can be written as P. Lutus. And Plutus is the god of wealth.

_'Forced March' pills  
_Wikipedia: Cocaine; these pills boost one's performance.

**Chapter 16**

_sherpa  
_Wikipedia: Sherpa; an ethnic group from Nepal, often hired as climbing assistants.

**Chapter 17**

_He saw the man shoot Licorne in the head.  
_See Silence of the Lambs, chapter 25; a reference to Clarice's slaughter-horses.

_the story of Eglė  
_Wikipedia: Egle; a Lithuanian folk tale about the Queen of the Grass Snakes. A link to Hannibal Rising.

_He prayed fervently he wanted to see Mischa again  
_See Hannibal, chapter 48; God does hear our prayers, but He is free to answer them as He pleases in His sovereignty. And that is quite difficult for us to accept...

**Chapter 18**

_as he had asked God fervently in his prayers / He had lost his sister and his faith.  
_As we see here, Hannibal cannot accept God's sovereignty.

_Hannibal could see a woman at the control wheel (of the) Petlyakov Pe-2  
_Wikipedia: Petlyakov_Pe-2; a Russian fighter. Quite funny is the part about this plane taking off with female pilots.

**Chapter 19**

_a beautiful evil  
_Wikipedia: Pandora; who, out of curiosity, opened a jar(!), thus releasing all evil.

_to move his belongings from the Castle to a new one  
_This is why Hannibal's Memory Castle is different from the one we read about in Hannibal.

**Chapter 20**

_One grey pigeon  
_Pigeons will forever signify Clarice.

_the clock and the boar's head  
_In my fanfic, truly everything from his childhood is gone. There's no reason to stay.

_A thin cry escaped him first  
_See Hannibal, chapter 48; where a thin cry escaped him too.


	22. Chapter 21

**PART 2 **

**PARIS**

**Chapter 21**

The road to the castle leads through the lovely forests surrounding Paris. The door is just over eighteen miles as a pigeon flies from the bridge where police inspector Javert threw himself in the Seine, but it is a completely different world than the busy Île de la Cité. Here, peace and quiet govern.

The sounds from the forest – the animals, the wind through the leaves and foliage – is all that is audible besides your own breathing and your feet on the gravel. It is highly unlikely you will encounter anyone on your trip. Then, as you start to wonder if the road actually leads somewhere, you will see the gate to the castle. By the way, the gate is never closed.

A lonely child was standing at the gate. He is eight years old. His clothes were very tattered, indicating he has worn them each and every day for quite a long time. His eyes did not reveal his thoughts, but we can imagine he might have felt awkward, since his clothing did not match the grandeur of the castle at the end of the drive.

Built in 1883 by Bruneau in the Renaissance Revival style for a Portuguese banker, the château was to be a romantic home. But as the banker's money failed, the romance was gone and he had to sell the château. It was bought by Polish nobility, the Klossowski family of the Rola coat-of-arms. Marquise Rose Sélavy Klossowska was at that moment the current member of the family to own the château.

.

The boy started to walk the drive to the château. He passed the two ponds with ducks and halted to take a good look. The asymmetrical building was lit beautifully by the midday sun. Its round staircase on the left was the backbone of the building, the tower on the right with the largest rooms of the château stood majestically on the top of the slope to the English garden.

The boy had reached the château. He climbed the stairs to the rez-de-chaussée. Luckily, the door knocker was within his reach, he knocked firmly with it.

It took a few moments before the door was answered. An old servant opened the door, and in spite of his years of serving, he could not suppress a short look of amazement at the sight of the child. Then his conscious mind took over, the frown disappeared and he took in the child. But before he had decided how to address the child, the child addressed him most courteously.

"Good afternoon. Would you be so kind to call my uncle, Kristijonas Lecter, and tell him his nephew Hannibal has come to see him?"

The man was astonished at the eloquence and demeanor of the child, taken slightly aback with it. It took his mind a few moments to accept it. Then he recognized the child's class, and his professionalism took over.

"Of course. Please, come in."

"Pray be seated," he said as soon as Hannibal was inside. Then he turned to get the child's uncle.

.

A tall man walked down the grand spiral staircase, and looked at Hannibal. Then a spark of recognition and he ran to the boy.

"Hannibal!"

"Uncle Kristijonas," said Hannibal, and he rose to greet his uncle. But his uncle threw his arms around him and welcomed him as if he was the prodigal son. After a few moments, the man loosened his hold and took a closer look at him.

It was clear Hannibal reminded him of his brother. But as he looked at Hannibal, his mind deducted what Hannibal's lone presence indicated. Hannibal could see it in his face, and smelled it in his scent. Fear. Fear that his brother was gone. Then anger. Hannibal was enjoying reading his uncle's face. He knew exactly what the man was thinking. He believed he could read his mind. And, in a way, maybe he could.

"Alfred!" shouted uncle Kristijonas.

The majordomo reappeared quickly.

"Please see to it that Hannibal is taken care of. He will stay at the main guest room. Arrange dinner at six and make sure he'll be ready to join our table then. But first, get him a bit of baguette, please."

Then Kristijonas turned to Hannibal. "Hannibal, all will be fine now. Please, follow Alfred. Rose and I will meet you at dinner."

"Yes, uncle Kristijonas. Thank you," said Hannibal. The majordomo motioned him to follow, Hannibal nodded to his uncle and followed the man. As soon as Hannibal was out of sight, Kristijonas sighed and shook his head. Tears almost welled from his eyes. Then he started for his wife to tell her what had happened.

.

Alfred had some clothes for Hannibal, he had brought them with him from his family in the village, and hung them in Hannibal's room as Hannibal was in bath. The boy heard him from the bathroom. He was taking a bath, and enjoyed the physical sensation of the warm bath, with the scent of spring flowers, very much. It was a pleasure he had not experienced very often in the last two years. And having people, family, around again was delightful too.

The ornate metal tub was beautiful, but the fact it was metal suddenly released the image of a beaten copper cistern in his mind. He felt his heart-rate increasing, and before any associations that might prove dangerous could sneak into his mind, he banned the image from his consciousness.

.

Hannibal had been introduced to his aunt just before dinner. Now, they were seated in the dining room, at the luxurious table, with linen, bone china plates, silverware and crystal. Sensing Hannibal's state of mind, his uncle and aunt created a comfortable atmosphere with their enjoyable light conversation.

Aunt Rose ordered the butler to bring the next course, and told him what wine was to go with it. He bowed and left the room. Hannibal's nostrils flared shortly as the man passed behind him. His own malodorous last two years could be excused by his extraordinary circumstances. This man had no such excuse for his slightly smelly shirt.

"Well, Hannibal. Do you like your room?"

"Yes, aunt Rose. I like it very much. I enjoyed the view over the valley."

"That is wonderful, indeed. Tomorrow, we will go to the city and buy you some clothes of your own."

"Thank you, aunt Rose."

"More than welcome, Hannibal. It's not a big deal, I'm sure you'll agree it would be nicer to have some new clothes."

"Yes, that would be nice."

"Well, that's settled then."


	23. Chapter 22

**Chapter 22**

Aunt Rose put on her Hermès scarf. Hannibal watched her check it in the slightly smoked and crazed mirror. Then she turned to Hannibal and took him by his arm.

"Your first steps on the road of becoming a French _gentilhomme_, Hannibal. Do you know Molière? No? Then someday read his 'Le bourgeois gentilhomme' and remember we are not like Jourdain. Come, to the car."

They walked down the stairs. The driver opened the doors to the majestic Maybach SW42 for them. Softly, he closed them, then got in himself. When they had driven a few minutes in silence, aunt Rose spoke.

"I am sure you know your mother's and father's lineage. Have you ever been told mine? My family is a noble family. But we do not govern or do business. In my family, artistry is a common factor. You will find quite some artists among my relatives."

Hannibal nodded.

"My mother loved art very much, too."

Aunt Rose looked at him with a wry and sad smile.

"Yes, that's what I heard too. You will find some lovely art in our Château. The difference with your mother's taste is that we prefer contemporary art. Your mother believed it was most important to know where you came from. I have learned from your uncle that knowing about today is just as important."

"Aunt Rose, my mother has taught me about choosing. And we choose _now_. We weigh all pros and cons, considering the circumstances."

"That's correct."

"She was very decisive about that."

"That tells me she was more concerned about today than I knew."

"Someone told me we learn every day. Or at least should try to learn something each day."

"Well, that must have been a clever person," chuckled aunt Rose.

"Don't you agree?"

"Why yes, I agree. But am I not entitled to some _fun_?"

"No," said Hannibal. He looked quite seriously at his aunt, but before she could react, a grin appeared on his face.

"You naughty boy!" said aunt Rose, and laughed.

They enjoyed a lovely, light conversation for the rest of the ride. At 42 Avenue George V, the driver halted and opened the doors for them.

"Thank you, Sany. Please wait for us."

"Oui, Madame."

"I'm sure we'll find you some decent clothes in here," said his aunt. She checked her bamboo handle bag, then led Hannibal into the beautiful store.

.

The shop assistants were busy composing a complete wardrobe for Hannibal. Aunt Rose used the moment to tell Hannibal something about his uncle.

"Your uncle is quite famous in Paris. He has a psychiatric practice on the second floor. Among his clientele are quite a few persons you might meet in a shop like this. But I am sure most of them will deny it if asked. Not out of privacy, but out of shame. Beautiful on the outside is not a guarantee for beauty on the inside, Hannibal."

"And then there's a small number of clients that would not be ashamed to admit they visit your uncle professionally, but it would be better not to get involved with them. They love the idea they can tell your uncle anything, and that his professional secrecy keeps him from turning them in with the police."

"The silk shirts, with the Italian collars, please," said aunt Rose to the assistant that had approached them, holding several shirts in his hand.

"Hannibal, please follow the gentleman. Try on the clothes he gives you, and show them to me, please."

"I will, aunt Rose."

"_Bon_."

.

The purchases were loaded in the trunk by the assistants.

"I need some groceries, Sany. Please drop us off at the Rue Montorgueil," said aunt Rose.

"Monet," said Hannibal.

"I'm sorry?" asked his aunt.

"I said 'Monet', aunt Rose."

"Ah, yes. His painting of that street is quite fabulous, isn't it? So full of color and joy. Shall we go and see it someday soon at the Galerie du Jeu de Paume?"

Hannibal's eyes turned bright and happy. He smiled.

"That would be very nice," he said.

"But now, I need to go to Rigatieri and Stohrer. Are we ready to go, Sany?"

"Oui, Madame."

.

When they had returned to the castle, aunt Rose took Hannibal to the dovecote. She lured some pigeons with handfuls of grains, and when a pigeon would land on her hand, she stroked it to calm it, then turned its neck gently so the other pigeons would not fly. When she had three pigeons, she rose.

"Do you know why we do not pity these pigeons? Because dinner appeals to taste and smell. Being the more primal emotions, they are housed in parts of the mind that precede the younger emotion pity. Pity is a baby, and who trusts babies for advice? Come."

Aunt Rose led Hannibal through the garden, to the kitchen in the _sous-sol_. There, she handed the pigeons to the chef and told him she would be back in a few minutes.

"I'll take you upstairs, to your room," she said. "Your clothes are in your room, and I have ordered for someone to help you get dressed. Do as you please when you are done, but mind that we will have dinner at eight. _Bon_, let's go."


	24. Chapter 23

**Chapter 23**

Hannibal's uncle and aunt provided him with everything he might need, but even more important, they gave him a home. They tried, as they had no children of their own and aunt Rose's children of her first marriage had never lived with them at the castle, to create a family for Hannibal as stable and warm as possible. They tried their best, and truly could not have done better.

.

Then, one day, while Hannibal was slowly approaching his tenth birthday, as he finished his breakfast, Hannibal decided to visit the castle's library again. He ascended the stairs one floor, and walked softly – not wanting to disturb his uncle – to the immense library on the other side of the castle. A crossbow on one of the walls reminded him of Youkahainen's revenge. Hannibal loved the high spaces of the castle, they matched the height of the rooms at Giedraičiai Castle.

The library was impressive in size. Hannibal strolled around the room. Then, on a whim, he started to count the bookcases and shelves, and counted the number of books on one shelf, to use as an average for all shelves. Within a few seconds he came to the conclusion that, even when reading three books a day, he would need 1568 days, or four years and 107 days, to read them all. That would be a waste of time, since he was sure not all books would be worth reading. He decided to ask uncle Kristijonas for advice later. For now, he just walked around, filled himself with the feeling of the room. Occasionally, he would take down a book, read its cover and flip through it, maybe read a few lines.

.

The name Shakespeare was on the cover of the book he held now. Of him, Hannibal had heard. He recollected Mr. Jakov saying Shakespeare was sublime, so he picked a page at random and read.

"Titus Andronicus," Hannibal spoke aloud, hearing the harsh sounds of the hard consonants echoing off the walls, enjoying the space his voice had revealed. Then he read out loud Aaron's words to Tamora.

_"Madam, though Venus govern your desires,_

_Saturn is dominator over mine._

_What signifies my deadly-standing eye,_

_My silence and my cloudy melancholy,_

_My fleece of woolly hair that now uncurls_

_Even as an adder when she doth unroll_

_To do some fatal execution?_

_No, madam, these are no venereal signs._

_Vengeance is in my heart, death in my hand,_

_Blood and revenge are hammering in my head."_

Hannibal took profound pleasure in the sound of his voice wandering around the library, coming and going, echoing and resounding. The words Shakespeare had written had a dark, looming quality that made Hannibal's eyes glow with enthusiasm. Yes, he liked Shakespeare very much. He flipped through the book, halted at another page, and read.

_" You have among you many a purchas'd slave,_

_Which , like your asses and your dogs and mules,_

_You use in abject and in slavish parts, _

_Because you bought them; shall I say to you_

_'Let them be free, marry them to your heirs-_

_Why sweat they under burdens?- let their beds_

_Be made as soft as yours, and let their palates_

_Be season'd with such viands'? You will answer_

_'The slaves are ours.' So do I answer you:_

_The pound of flesh which I demand of him_

_Is dearly bought, 'tis mine, and I will have it."_

Clearly something to read and cherish later. Hannibal closed the book and replaced it on the shelf.

.

He walked over to the next bookcase, took out a beautiful hard covered book and looked at it. John Milton, Paradise Lost. He opened it, and read from the beginning of Book I.

_"And chiefly thou, O Spirit, that dost prefer_

_Before all temples th' upright heart and pure,_

_Instruct me, for thou know'st; thou from the first_

_Wast present, and, with mighty wings outspread,_

_Dove-like sat'st brooding on the vast Abyss,_

_And mad'st it pregnant: what in me is dark_

_Illumine, what is low raise and support;_

_That, to the height of this great argument,_

_I may assert Eternal Providence,_

_And justify the ways of God to men."_

His mouth turned down like a Greek mask, he pondered upon the ways of God with men, and could not agree with Milton. But he did enjoy William Blake's paintings in the book. As he went through the pictures, the resemblance between 'Satan watching the caresses of Adam and Eve' and 'Raphael and Adam and Eve' struck him. He mused on the similarities between the two paintings for some time, especially the way the fallen angel and Gabriel looked alike.

.

The last book he took from one of the shelves was a small one, about 4x6 inches, but its quality fascinated Hannibal. On one of the first pages was a print of 'Dante's dream' by D.G. Rossetti, the book itself was called 'The Vita Nuova and Canzoniere of Dante Alighieri'. Its left pages held the Italian text, the right pages the English translation. Hannibal read the Italian first, then the English and noted, as he read, the translation was superb, but lacked – as all translations are bound to – the convocational quality of the original.

_"Nine times already since my birth had the heaven of light returned almost to one and the same point in relation to its own proper revolution, when the glorious lady of my mind first appeared to mine eyes, who was called Beatrice by many that knew not what they were calling her."_

Surprised by the writer's age at that time, Hannibal decided to take this little book with him and read it. He left the library and went to the stairs to go to the salon. But as he descended it, he heard a grand piano. Off key as it was, it still was an impressive sound from the instrument. He was sure he had not seen one in the house before.

.

Hannibal followed the notes to the salon, and found his uncle, sitting at a dark black Bechstein, playing some scales.

"How do you like my piano?" asked his uncle as he noticed Hannibal approaching. "I had it brought back from storage. I haven't played it in years, but I felt like playing again. It eases the mind, calms the nerves."

"It's slightly off key, it needs tuning, but it is a beautiful piece of work."

"Do you play?"

"Yes, I do."

"Would you like to play?"

"Yes, please."

Uncle Kristijonas rose from the piano stool and motioned Hannibal to it. Hannibal sat down, then rose and adjusted the stool to the proper height, and sat down again. First he touched a few keys, then played a few scales, then paused and closed his eyes.

Some seconds later, his nostrils slightly flared, as if he scented something important. His hands rose to the keyboard, floated above it for a few seconds, then Hannibal started playing. To Kristijonas, it was as if the birds outside stopped whistling, to listen to Hannibal's tune. He knew how to play himself, but was amazed by Hannibal's purity and sensitivity on the piano.

"Uncle Kristijonas, can I ask you something?" asked Hannibal while playing, waking his uncle from his reverie.

"Sure."

"What is that over there?" said Hannibal, directing with his gaze.

"That is a Theremin. It is a musical instrument, too. You play it by moving your hands around it."

"Will you show me later?"

"Of course. What are you playing?"

"Liszt's Piano Sonata in B minor."


	25. Chapter 24

**Chapter 24**

Hannibal entered the room and halted. Uncle Kristijonas and aunt Rose instantly rose from their chairs. Hannibal's face was completely blank, so they waited for him to speak first. After a moment, too long to be comfortable for anyone but Hannibal, he walked across the room, and poured himself some water from a carafe.

The tension was almost visible in the room, even though they knew he could only have passed his _baccalauréat_, since his grades had always been perfect. Yet, if it was to be Hannibal to bring the news, they would not ask for it. But Hannibal knew how to play with people these days. As a fourteen year old, he was perhaps the youngest student ever to take the bac, but he was quite up to it. In various ways, he was even beyond it.

His uncle had taken care of Hannibal's education, he had hired him private tutors. And as soon as Hannibal had reached the level to go to a lycée, uncle Kristijonas had him go to Louis-le-Grand. Now, after one year, he had taken this test that would entitle him to study at one of the _grandes écoles_.

Then, as if suddenly he remembered something irrelevant, he said:

"Oh yes, I passed my bac."

Aunt Rose clapped her hands in joy, uncle Kristijonas laughed and walked over to congratulate him.

"Well done, Hannibal. I knew you would pass."

"So did I," answered Hannibal.

"Congratulations," said aunt Rose and hugged him.

"I never told you what I wanted to study after my baccalauréat. I believe now is the moment to inform you of my plans. With your approval, I would like to study both medicine and mathematics."

Uncle Kristijonas was surprised. He knew Hannibal was smart, but had not expected this. But as he knew Hannibal would never start something he could not finish, he agreed with his choice.

"It will be quite a challenge, Hannibal. But challenges do not frighten you. I'm sure you will succeed."

"Indeed, they don't frighten me, uncle Kristijonas. And thank you for your support in everything, especially finding me the apartment."

Kristijonas Lecter smiled and nodded.

.

The frogs had been preserved before the war, in formaldehyde. What color their organs ever had, could no longer be perceived. But the students would have to do with these specimens. Each frog had four admiring students, except one frog that was studied and drawn by only three students. To escape the malodorous gathering of people and chemicals, Hannibal had looked at the frog for a few moments as it had been placed on the table, then he had withdrawn to the back of the laboratory and sketched it there from memory.

Professor Bienville liked full attention from his students, and was suspicious of the solitary boy in the back. He walked over and demanded to see the boy's sketches. Hannibal handed the professor his sheets. The professor was perhaps a clever man in his field of study, and the material he had written for the students a challenge to most of them, his face was such an easy read for Hannibal. He could see the suspiciousness, the surprise, the amazement, the judgment and the appreciation. Quite boring, actually, this man.

"Someone should see these. I will return them to you later," said the man sourly. "Right now, you can clean the sinks and return the preserved mice to the cupboard."

"Yes, professor."

The man returned to the front of the class. Hannibal finished other drawings he had been working on. They were not drawings of frogs, but men's faces, dirty and bitter. They were the faces of the looters. Hannibal had written the forenames under each likeness, in Carolingian script, and the style of drawing Hannibal had used to depict them was rather unbecoming to the faces.

.

Hannibal's study of Mathematics started rather dull. Hannibal had hoped he would actually learn something, but he found the first semester filled mostly with lectures on topics he already knew. He decided not to attend those anymore.

There was one professor whose lectures on Linear Algebra he did attend. First because it was new to him, second because the man knew how to teach. When he lectured, the other students turned quiet and paid full attention. Hannibal could not care less for his fellow-students. And the others did not care for him, either. But Hannibal enjoyed the tranquility that prevailed during these hours.

It happened frequently that Hannibal would remain seated at the end of a lecture, and once the other students had left the room, he would walk over to the professor and ask him questions. The first time he had done that, the professor had been taken aback by the young student's bright maroon eyes that shone with intelligence and studiousness. As he noticed that the boy understood everything he said, and challenged him with the questions he asked, he opened up to the boy. But he felt the boy did not respond likewise, and maintained the professional student - professor distance.

Some time later, after another lecture, the professor shared his knowledge on Gauss. They had just finished the Gaussian elimination. So he told Hannibal about Gauss' magnum opus, Disquisitiones Arithmeticae, and that he had written them at the age of 21. But he also told him about his conflicts with his sons, and that two of them migrated to the United States.

Linear Algebra pleased Hannibal for its lack of hypotheses. It was straight-forward, there was no 'what if'. He had decided long ago to trust nobody, and to question everything. In all the chaos that prevailed in life, this was an absolute truth. Hannibal wanted truth, and absolutes. Those were the only things he would count upon.


	26. Chapter 25

**Chapter 25**

On a warm spring day in 1954, Hannibal walked slowly through the streets of Paris and enjoyed the warm glow of the sun on his face. He walked through the Rue de Feuillantines, and visited his Memory Castle to see the Hall of French Literary Men. There, he walked over to the statue of Victor Hugo, and confirmed from its pedestal that he went to school there. A thought came to mind, and he took the drawing-folder from Mr. Hugo's left hand and opened it to have a look at his paintings. He came across the _Our Valley_ painting, and took it from the folder to have a good look at it, since he approached the _Jardin de Luxembourg_. The vista in pen-and-ink wash gave birth to the impression it had a gloomy day when it was painted. Its rough quality was entertaining. The color and the lines swept across the picture as if created by arbitrary movements, yet it was clear a purposeful hand had moved the painter's tools.

.

Hannibal arrived at Place André Honnorat, and looked at the Palais du Luxembourg, where the Senate resided. The building had a French ground-plan, but ringed columns and Tuscan capitals to make it resemble the Palazzo Pitti in Florence, to accommodate Maria de' Medici. The sun lit the Palace as it would light any Tuscan Palazzo, and it warmed Hannibal's back. As he had time, he decided to walk the eastern side of the park. An attendant circumstance was that he would thus avoid the crowded paths and lawns, and see some nice sculptures along the way.

Hannibal held an easy pace, and keenly studied the flora and fauna he saw. One white cabbage butterfly caught his attention. Hannibal followed its graceful movement through the air, his full focus on the wings beating their rhythm of flight. The movements of the butterfly seemed to be slowing down, nearing Hannibal's heart rate. Now, Hannibal could see the wings bending a bit on their way up and down. He followed the lovely but fragile creature until he could no longer see, as it disappeared in the purple shadows of the trees.

He stopped at a sculpture of a woman, playfully standing next to a column with a face on it, naively holding her fingers in its mouth, about to put her whole hand in. Her unconcerned face made clear she believed no harm would befall her. Hannibal walked round the sculpture and took a good look at it. He took the copy in his Memory Castle only to the foyer, and would move it to its proper place later. He would learn about the genuine _La Bocca della Verità_ in Rome later and keep those two sculptures in the same hall from that moment on.

At the Fontaine Médicis he studied the bas-relief of Leda and the Swan, and decided it was not particularly exciting. He had decided to walk along the Boulevard Raspail – not the most beautiful boulevard, but it was the shortest route – to Quai Anatole France, where he would meet his aunt. He turned west, and crossed the width of the park. He walked by a small scale bronze model of the Statue of Liberty. He knew it was the first thing immigrants used to see when they went to the United States by boat. This small model wasn't quite impressive.

.

Hannibal stood at the appointed spot. He was right on time, he knew his aunt always arrived five minutes late. Standing in the sun on the edge of the embankment, he looked at the Louvre on the other side of the Seine river and mused on the rich history of the ground beneath his feet.

He heard the distinctive sound of the Maybach and turned around in a suave motion. He walked over to the car, Sany opened the door for him and he got in. Hannibal greeted his aunt, as usual with a kiss in the air by her cheek.

"Well, Hannibal! Isn't this a lovely day?"

"It sure is, aunt Rose. By the way, love your suit."

"Yes, nice, isn't it? It's from Hubert de Givenchy, one of your uncle's friends. It's his first ready-to-wear: Givenchy Université. I could not resist buying it, knowing this day with you was at hand."

"Aunt Rose, you will never cease to amaze me."

"I sure hope so. Shall we?"

Hannibal nodded.

"Sany, take us to Galleries Lafayette first, please."

Driving the car at a placid pace, Sany took them to aunt Rose's favorite department store.

.

At the Galleries, his aunt walked every floor, asking Hannibal for his opinion for her own purchases and giving her advice when he was browsing. At the perfumery, aunt Rose took her time to find a nice new fragrance. The man behind the counter was good at his job, but Hannibal found his gay behavior rather overdrawn. He was glad the man's professionalism made it tolerable. For the moment, anyway. Yet, he maintained a certain distance from the counter.

"Hannibal, come over, please. I cannot choose. Please help me."

Hannibal walked over, his aunt handed him a strip of paper to smell. Hannibal did not need to keep it directly under his nose as others did, but he did hold it under his nose, to show he was truly smelling it. It was a very nice scent indeed, full and luxurious, appropriate for his aunt.

"That is Guerlain's 'Mitsouko'. Now, smell this one."

His aunt handed him another piece of paper. The moment the perfume reached his nose, Hannibal's awareness was turned full instantly. The scent opened chambers in his Memory Castle.

_A cacophony of colors. A painting. Something touching his cheek, his mother's breast. His hands touching his mother, the soft structure of her skin against his. Her smell in his nostrils. This smell._

"That is Guerlain's 'L'Heure bleue'. I just can't decide which one to choose. What do you think, Hannibal?"

Hannibal had to run out of his Memory Castle, the voice of his aunt had been so far away he had almost not heard it.

"I think 'Mitsouko' would suit you better, aunt Rose."

"Rogér, you heard the boy. Chop chop!"

"Yes, Madame. Right away; and may I complement the charming boy on his choice?" he said, with a mischievous spark in his pale blue eyes.

Hannibal did not react, and Rogér pouted his lips somewhat and took the perfume with him to wrap it up.

.

That evening, as they returned to the Castle, they entered it from the back, in the sous-sol. The front door could only be opened from the inside, and they did not want to disturb anyone. Hannibal lit a candle and illuminated the way. Then, in one of the rooms on their way to the staircase, they surprised a man, dressed in black clothes and a balaclava. The burglar turned around quickly, lifted his right arm, his hand holding something dark, and approached them quickly.

Hannibal remained where he stood, aunt Rose took a step aside, a bit more in the dark. The man believed the boy to be the most dangerous, and kept going towards him. Hannibal saw the man approach, time spread out, and then he also saw his aunt lifting a hand to her head. Hannibal knew he should keep the man's attention and he started to gesture and look frightened. As the man came nearer and nearer, aunt Rose took one of her straight hairpins out of her hair. A moment before the man reached Hannibal, she turned around in one flowing move, stretched her arm and stabbed the man in his chest. Hannibal saw the slender pin wiggle as the burglar's spiked heart tried to keep beating. He was dead before he fell to the floor.

.

Aunt Rose did not look directly at Hannibal, but spoke to him, while looking at the body on the floor.

"Will you help me get rid of this… thief, this criminal?"

"Yes, aunt Rose. And may I suggest something?"

"Please, do."

"Your words have a familiar ring, I have read them before. In Caesar's Commentarii de Bello Gallico."

Aunt Rose looked up, and stared at the boy, wondering where this was leading to. Hannibal continued, happy he had piqued his aunt's attention.

"Caesar did not witness the ritual himself, but he writes that the Gauls built Wicker Men, for human sacrifice. Men were placed in the effigies, then they were set on fire. The druids generally used thieves and criminals."

Aunt Rose nodded.

"Since we are in Gaul, why not do as the Gauls do?"

Aunt Rose nodded again, in agreement. Hannibal continued.

"I will carry him. It won't be far; if we take him just beyond the borders of the estate, we will not be incriminated. It will be too close to the Castle for the Police to suspect us."

Aunt Rose noticed Hannibal had grown and changed, or perhaps emerged as what he had ever been.


	27. Chapter 26

**Chapter 26**

The group of students that strolled down the boulevard was very noisy. The fact that is was quite late did not stop them from being vociferous. Drunk as they were, any consideration for others was not something they were thinking about.

Their thoughts, and so their shouts and remarks, were focused on two things mainly: college and women. The underlying common factor was jealousy. They were outdoing each other with their marks and their girlfriends. It was somewhat of a miracle they were not boasting about their lack of these two, or their disregard of them.

They slowly progressed through the Parisian streets, accompanied by a slight drizzle that tormented the city this late summer evening. Their unsure footing, due to their intoxication, was the most important cause of their loitering. Their banter contributed too. Having to think about what to say or reply was very demanding on them all.

But, as they proceeded through those morose and dreary streets, slowly their state of inebriety changed to the state where thought and movements improved but boldness remained. And with that somewhat sobered up state came a less noisy conduct. It was at that moment that they reached the medical laboratories of the University.

.

Hannibal picked up the head with one hand, turned its face towards his own and stared into its gray, lifeless eyes.

"Not to be", spoke Hannibal and a slight smile appeared.

Then he put the head back on the table and removed the top of the cranium in a coronal dissection he had prepared a few minutes ago. He injected the major blood vessels with colored gels, piercing the dura mater covering the brain. It was more difficult injecting the veins like this, but it would give the professor the opportunity of a full performance. He watched the gel coagulate, and made sure the gel was evenly distributed.

.

From the street, one of the students noticed that the lights were on in one of the rooms. He looked and saw that strange kid, Hannibal, that always sat in the last row in class and hardly talked to anybody.

"Look there!"

"It's that kid Hannibal. What's he doing?"

"Looks like kissing the professor's ass. No wonder he always has the best marks."

They laughed, as drunk people tend to laugh at anything.

"I can't stand the little bastard. You know Amélie? She has had a few dates with him, and she has been ignoring me ever since their first date!"

"What?"

"You know, even if I stand in front of her, she acts as if I am not there. I'm sure it because of him, and the date they have had. I hate Hannibal."

"Well, why don't we play a little joke on him!"

"Yeah, let's do that!"

"What shall we do?"

"Let's kidnap him!"

"Great idea! Who will kidnap him?"

"Theodore!" yelled some. One of the students turned whiter than he already was.

"Yeah! Theodore Slutz, _my friend_, you are going to kidnap Hannibal."

"Why me? And how?"

"You, because you still have to prove you truly belong to our group... Use ether to render him unconscious. Soak a sponge with it. I'm sure you'll find one, and some ether, somewhere in the laboratories."

The group was becoming very agitated, they pushed Theodore through the double entry doors of the building. Behind the doors, Theodore stood with shaking legs. He did not like the idea of narcotizing Hannibal, but resisting the task given would be futile with these students. He inhaled deeply, then went inside the first laboratory he saw to get what he needed.

.

Slowly, Theodore advanced down the silent and dark hallway. He could not see outside, but knew the others could see him. He did not want to fail. The adrenaline had sobered Theodore up completely. A nervous shudder shook his system. He needed to focus on the task ahead. He took a peek through the window of the lit laboratory. With one eye he saw Hannibal, still working with the head, some cloth in his hand. He estimated how far from the door Hannibal was. How many steps would it take to reach him? Perhaps one too many. He needed to surprise him to be sure he would be able to overpower him.

Theodore lowered his head, and moved on towards the door. Moving as careful and silent as possible, he reached the open door. Making sure he had a good grip on the sponge in his hand, he decided to count to three, and then barge in. With his eyes closed, he counted slowly, inhaled, opened his eyes, got up and ran inside. Even before he could see if he had estimated the distance right, he felt an embrace, but it was a very strong one, holding him tight. Theodore could not break free. Something wet hit his face, a harsh scent stung his lungs. He felt as if all the alcohol he had drunk that evening suddenly invaded his brains, and he passed out.

.

Glad the scent of the ether was very much blocking the alcohol-laden breath of the surprise visitor, Hannibal turned his guest around. He knew the face, not the name, but that did not matter. He had seen him, acting as a young puppy, being frolic with that band of idiot senior students. An opportunist.

With a slight mischievous smile, Hannibal lifted the kid effortlessly onto an autopsy table. Exaggerating his movements slightly, he laid Theodore on his back and put his arms next to him. Then he went for a mobile cabinet. He examined the knives with care, testing their edges by cutting off small pieces of Theodore's clothes. With one of the larger knives, he pretended to be a gladiator. Suddenly he stood still, put down the knife, and hit himself on the head as if he had forgotten something. With large strides, he left the laboratory.

.

"He's gone! Quick, get Theo!"

"Help me, I can't carry him alone!"

Half the group ran inside and went for the laboratory where Hannibal had left Theodore.

"What was that little fuck thinking of? Did you see his face?"

"Yeah, I saw it, and I do not want to know. All I know is, we have to save him. Quick!"

They went inside, checking if Hannibal was truly gone, then went over to the autopsy table and pulled Theodore off. One or more students at each limb, they lifted their unconscious comrade and hauled him away, blind fear in their eyes.

.

Watching from the dark room next door, Hannibal looked at the group 'saving' his supposed victim. He hoped he had scared them enough to keep them from any further intrusion. He smiled shortly and returned to his work on the head, softly whistling Venus of Milo from Miles Davis' Birth of the Cool.


	28. Chapter 27

**Chapter 27**

A soft knock on the door to Hannibal's apartment. Hannibal was in the kitchen, yet he heard it as clearly as we would have standing next to the door. But he did not look up. He kept his main focus as it was, this specific task could not wait and it would not take long. Besides, he knew Amélie would wait. He smiled.

A few moments later Hannibal had finished. He washed his hands. Then he walked over to the door and opened it. He saw the girl, smoothly took one step back and motioned her in. The girl nodded, smiled and entered. As she passed by, Hannibal caught a whiff of the air she displaced and scented it. It smelled of anticipation and it matched the nervous look on her face. He smiled again, but she could not see that.

.

"Shall I take your coat?"

"Yes, please."

Amélie took off her coat. Hannibal saw the lovely light dress she wore, his eyes expressed his admiration for her taste. She handed him her coat. She only wore a light dress, and with such a sullen autumn weather outside he expected the coat to be well lined. As he took it, he found his thought confirmed.

The weight of the coat had, surely, been very comforting to her, she would probably feel vulnerable now. He could hear her gently moving her hands up and down her upper arms, a combination of the loss of warmth of the coat and the loss of security. He decided to have her feel comfortable first. He turned around.

"You had better go ahead to the living room first, it's rather cold here. You'll find a cosy seat near the hearth there. Please, get settled."

She nodded and started to walk where Hannibal had directed her. Hannibal made a mental note to have the concierge warm his apartment further, while they were in the city later on, so the evening would be more comfortable for her.

.

Hannibal seated himself on the edge of the couch opposite the girl.

"I have prepared sushi for lunch."

Amélie looked at him inquisitively, but did not ask – much to Hannibal's delight.

"Sushi is edible art. Eating can be so much more than merely consuming food. Our eyes want to eat too."

The girl nodded in comprehension. Hannibal noticed she was no longer holding her upper arms, but had relaxed into a more pleasant position. She continued looking at Hannibal, awaiting more.

"But presentation is not the exclusive territory of Japanese chefs. I have not chosen sushi for that reason."

Hannibal rose silently and went to the kitchen. In a few moments he returned with a black plate in one hand, and a tiny bowl. He put the two on the table between them. The plate was still too cold for his taste.

"Sushi is art in all facets. From the choice of ingredients, via the preparation, to the presentation. I have chosen the more familiar ingredients for now. Here we have sweet omelet and salmon topping, and cucumber filled makizushi. Once familiar with these bases for combination of tastes in sushi, we can start exploring new palatable sensations."

Hannibal noticed a slight movement in Amélie's body.

"I will not bother you with the preparation of ingredients now. But as you see, presentation is very important. A well-balanced distribution of colors; lines, or even suggestions of lines, and areas. May I suggest you memorize this layout? Then we can compare it with one of the paintings we'll be seeing today."

Hannibal felt the plate as he spoke. It had warmed enough, and the girl clearly too.

"Please, take one and dip it in the soy sauce here. _Bon appétit_."

.

"It was so much fun to see your sushi had truly captured the essence of that bizarre painting," said Amélie as they were standing in the queue to enter the Musée de Cluny.

Hannibal flinched slightly when he heard her say the word _bizarre_.

"Mondriaan changed his name to Mondrian almost instantly the moment he arrived at Paris. He was not that famous yet. He was looking for recognition and met many other painters. I'm sure they all would have been a bit discontented with the typification 'bizarre'."

Amélie heard the slight change in intonation, turned to face him and put her hand on his lower arm. The touch registered in his eyes.

"Oh, Hannibal," she sighed. "It was just such a shock to see such paintings. Had it not been for you, I never would have been acquainted with this kind of art. These last few months have been very instructive, and I still am learning. Please excuse me."

And with a smile, she turned back to view the line of people in front of them, but held his arm.

Hannibal read her face _en profile_, then looked ahead also.

"What we will be seeing now, will be quite the opposite. Yet, it will be quite a challenge too. Medieval imagery is always layered and the underlying message is not that intelligible to the contemporary human anymore."

"I'm sure you'll be able to enlighten me, Hannibal."

.

"This is the masterpiece of the Museum. It's the tapestry cycle 'The Lady and the Unicorn', one of the greatest works of art of the Middle Ages in Europe."

Hannibal gently took her hand from his arm, thus allowing her to explore the tapestry by herself. He watched her amazement and drank down every emotion she showed. He directed all of his senses at her, he wanted to feel everything she felt, maybe even encapsulate her sensations.

Amélie first walked by the six tapestries quickly. Curiosity was her guide. She viewed them for only a short time, perceiving only color, size and general impression. They were mostly a dark red, somewhat the color of blood in twilight, and a green that felt like unwearied ancient forests. With majestic measurements of 11.5 by 11.5 feet, the tapestries could not be missed. Amélie had to take a few steps back to see them completely.

As Amélie walked to and fro, Hannibal saw she was curious but that she did not grasp the deeper layer. He saw her fight her ignorance without effect. A slight blush colored her cheeks, which was actually matching her lovely dress in the most exquisite way.

"What does the lady do in the first tapestry, on the right?" he asked her then.

She went over there to have a look.

"She's looking at the parrot, and she's taking something from a goblet."

"What does the dog do?"

"It is looking at the lady."

"What is the dog doing?"

"Watching the lady."

"Why?"

"Hm. I'm not sure."

"What is the monkey doing?"

"It's eating..."

"Correct," interrupted Hannibal. "Now, what is the dog doing?"

"Hm. Watching the lady... taking something from the goblet... to eat! No, to give the parrot something to eat. But the dog wants something to eat too! Correct?" asked Amélie, and turned to Hannibal.

Hannibal smiled. He could smell she was a bit agitated.

"We are no longer accustomed to such language in today's art. Nevertheless, you understood this ancient language, that's quite something. As you perceived, this tapestry is about taste. Let's go to the next one," said Hannibal, and he took her arm and led her to the next tapestry. The color on the girl's cheeks deepened as he held her close by, she could feel his warmth through the fabric of her dress.

"Now, what do you see?"

"The lady is accompanied by the _Licorne_, the unicorn. She's holding a mirror."

Hannibal waited for more. Amélie thought for a moment.

"The unicorn is looking in the mirror. It's about sight."

With only a slight glance, indicating she was spot on, he led her to the next one.

She looked at it for a while, but could not grasp its meaning. She was getting a little frustrated with herself, but Hannibal helped her. He moved so he had her attention, then touched her upper arm with his hand. While looking at her inquisitively, he slowly moved his hand up and down.

He heard and saw the change in her breathing. And he could smell the change in her.

"This one is about touch," he said. "Did you read the words on the last tapestry?"

"No," she whispered.

"A mon seul désir."


	29. Chapter 28

**Chapter 28**

Hannibal was having dualistic feelings on the paper he was writing. The assignment was to write about the German mathematician Leibniz, and the professor wanted him to focus on the man's contribution to mathematical notation, and his use of the seven philosophical Principles. This last was due to an anomaly in the professor's way of teaching; he always had the students look beyond the known and expected.

Normally, studying something out of the regular was not an issue for Hannibal. He knew his knowledge was already irregular and beyond boundaries. But in this specific case, he disliked the additional subject-matter.

.

He sat in the semi-dark at his desk. It was February 1956, and it was a bleak and dreary day. A bulky volume on Leibniz was in front of him. He was scanning the pages for anything useful on Leibniz' philosophy. He had reached the subject of pre-established harmony. He read one line.

"The appropriate nature of each substance brings it about that what happens to one corresponds to what happens to all the others, without, however, their acting upon one another directly."

Someone had added his comment in the border: "A dropped cup shatters because it 'knows' it has hit the ground, and not because the impact with the ground 'compels' the cup to break". Hannibal could not agree. With a sigh, he skipped a few pages and read another line, this time on optimism.

"God assuredly always chooses the best."

Hannibal quickly turned a few pages further and decided this passage was going to be the last he was going to read from this book today.

"For indeed, there is nothing in the intellect which was not in the senses, except the intellect itself. Music is the pleasure the human mind experiences from counting without being aware that it is counting."

.

Hannibal shut the book disrespectfully quick. He was very much aware of what his mind was hearing in music, and it was never without being aware of counting. He shifted the attention he had been spending on the book, and joined it with that part of his mind that had been listening to the record he was playing. It was a recording of the Goldberg Variations, by a young Canadian pianist named Glenn Gould. He had played the Variations with variegated expression, verve and tempo. Hannibal had heard of this phenomenal piano player, his performances were said to be outstanding.

The music was of a neck breaking speed, yet Hannibal could hear each and every note as they raced into the room. Just too bad a recording could not capture the complete sound of an instrument. Listening to records made him sometimes feel as if his hearing was partially impaired. All the other sounds that reached his hearing reassured him his ears were still sound.

The window was closed, but through the crevices the sound of cars accelerating, going by and coming to a halt permeated his room. People walking, their shoes on the pavement, their voices loud and often shrill. It seemed everybody thought they needed to yell in order to be heard.

Pigeons on the balcony, tripping along, cooing and picking the bird-seed Hannibal had left there for them. It reminded him of the pigeons his aunt sometimes prepared. He knew how to prepare them, but Hannibal did not want to take the chance with these dirty city pigeons. He was sure the pigeons from the castle were a lot healthier.

The doorbell rang, and even while Hannibal had adjusted its volume to an acceptable level, its ringing was an invasion of noise now. Keeping unknown visitors waiting too long was not something Hannibal was prone to do. He called he was coming, and walked over to the door. He kept part of his mind tuned to the music, while he allocated another part to the reception of his callers.

With Gould behind his back, he opened the door and found two policemen in front of him.

"Hannibal Lecter?"

"Yes, can I help you?"

"May we come in?"

"Of course. Do you mind if I keep the music on?" asked Hannibal and tilted his head slightly. He awaited the answer.

The policemen looked at each other, not used to such questions.

"It does not matter to us," one of them finally said.

Hannibal stepped back, turned and lead the men into his apartment. In the center of the room, he halted and turned to face them again. He concluded they had not come because something was amiss with him.

"And how may I be of assistance?" he asked.

The older of the two cleared his throat.

"It's about your uncle and aunt. I'm afraid... there has been an accident. We don't know for sure what happened, but their car got off the road and hit a tree. I'm sorry to tell you they are both dead."

The man looked at Hannibal. He was used to seeing all kinds of emotions on people's faces, but he saw none on this boy's face right now. His countenance was a complete blank. A cold shiver ran down his spine.

"I see," said Hannibal.

.

Hannibal received an invitation to the solicitor's a few days after the funeral of his uncle and aunt. The invitation mentioned him as being an interested party, without further explanation.

Hannibal knew his uncle and aunt had taken care of his upbringing and education because they had felt it was their duty and obligation. He was family and an orphan. But he knew they had loved him, and raised him as they would have raised their own children.

For Hannibal, their care had been enough. He had not expected to be in their will. But knowing that he was did not pique his curiosity to find out what he would inherit. Hannibal just went to the solicitor's at the appointed day and time and knew he would soon find out what his uncle and aunt had left him. It would be a foolish thing to imagine what it might be in advance.

.

Aunt Rose's two sons and one daughter from her first marriage had already been present when Hannibal had arrived, some minutes before the appointed time, at the solicitor's. They had only looked at him as he entered, they had not greeted him. The solicitor's assistant has shown him his seat. A few minutes had passed, waiting for the solicitor, without any conversation between the cousins and Hannibal. They had only conversed among themselves, which was quite rude actually, talking as if Hannibal had not been there.

Though Hannibal had an enormous amount of patience, and could retreat into his Memory Castle to block the drivel if he wanted to, the cousin's twaddle was of such kind it could have turned the Pope pugnacious. Hannibal had thought it best to simply sit it through, regardless of the effort it would take. After some monstrous minutes that had slowly grinded away, the solicitor had entered. The cousins had hushed immediately and seated themselves upright to focus their attention. The gold-digging commenced.

.

"I had figured something like this was going to happen when I saw that extra chair! Shit!"

The cousins were infuriated, and vented their dissatisfaction freely at the cloakroom while putting on their coats, not even bothering to wait until they had left the solicitor's.

"Yeah, they really knew how to play her and trick us out of our money."

Hannibal took his coat, and put it on. He noticed the wind had gained in strength, so he put on his leather gloves also.

"All the money that bastard got was ours. She had no right to include him in her will."

He opened the door, and walked out. It was a lovely day, even with the wind. Hannibal was grateful for what his aunt and uncle had left him, it ensured him continuing his studies and keeping the apartment, and much more. But he was even more grateful for what they had done for him while alive. He would have preferred them to be still alive.

His cousins were now outside too. They saw Hannibal, but it was as if Hannibal did not notice them at all. He just walked away, enjoying the feeble February sun.


	30. Chapter 29

**Chapter 29**

Eighteen year old Hannibal - almost nineteen - was having dinner at _La Closerie des Lilas_ on December 15th 1957. Deep grey clouds had been close by all day, trying to invade the city and cover it with the first snow of the year, but they had not succeeded. Instead, the Parisians had been treated with undeserved, lucid, twiggy sunrays. A day of drollery before the doleful days.

.

Hannibal had just finished a week of exams for both his studies. He had been lucky this time, there had been no overlapping exams at all. He felt like having a luxurious meal to close this extraordinary week. He was sure his grades would be excellent, as usual. Hannibal disliked arrogance vehemently, but calling his own work excellent was not arrogance, it was stating a fact. His work _was_ excellent.

.

But right now, Hannibal wasn't thinking of his studies, but enjoying the atmosphere in the café. He liked the scent of artistry there. It was as if all the creativity of the famous visitors of the café had infiltrated its walls, floor and ceiling. And the café liked to boast with all the names of these famous visitors, Hannibal felt as if he could still see them at their tables. A Montparnasse crowd consisting of poets, writers, painters, philosophers and more. Many from France, some from America and a few from elsewhere. The café was delightful. It was warm in the winter and the terrace was lovely in the spring and fall. He had seen the picture of the terrace filled with tables and people, with two trees that seemed to be rather in the way of the tables, and a waiter.

The heyday was over, but the terrace still attracted a lot of people. He pondered, as he leafed through the menu, the café would have never developed its current atmosphere if it had served the same menu back then. There was no way the often poor artists could have afforded such meals. He smiled mildly and called for a waiter.

He ordered Scallops tartare with lime and eggs of fish for starters. The main course was to be Pike quenelles with American sauce. The waiter asked what wines _monsieur_ would like to go with these. Hannibal considered the man, and told him he would leave that to him. He had perceived the man had not addressed him sarcasticly, but truly respectfully. He had sensed nothing wrong in his words and stature. The man's eyes widened for a moment, then thanked for the trust, but he suggested using the skills of the sommelier, since his knowledge of wines would most probably suit _monsieur_ better. Hannibal nodded his approval. The man had passed Hannibal's little test.

.

Hannibal was eating his quenelles. The Scallops tartare had been delightful, and the accompanying wine superb. He had stored the bottle in the wine cellar of his Memory Castle. But instead of remaining in the Castle, he had had a conversation with the man from the adjacent table. It had been an interesting discourse, the man was employed at The Louvre, and was an excellent companion. He had shared many interesting facts with Hannibal.

From time to time, Hannibal looked outside to see if it had started to snow. He did not care much for snow. After finishing his second quenelle, he looked outside again, and saw a familiar face outside, but not someone who could be considered pleasant company.

This was the chance encounter that Hannibal had always wanted. Without hesitation, he rose, took his wallet, left enough money to pay for the meal and inconvenience of his sudden departure, and left. He noticed one of the waiter looking at him quaintly, but another one rose to the occasion and handed him his coat without a question and wished him a pleasant evening. Hannibal thanked the man and went outside. He saw the man he was looking for in the distance, and started after him.

.

Hannibal had to walk at a somewhat brisk pace. The distance between them was almost too much and he did not want to lose the man out of sight. Seeing this man opened some well hidden chambers in his Memory Castle, and Hannibal had a hard time keeping the intrusive sounds, smells and sights from overtaking him completely. His face turned sour as he fought the memories. The only thing he allowed to enter his mind were the names and faces of the looters. Hannibal only knew their first names. This was Paul.

After he had halved the distance between them, it wasn't difficult to follow him anymore. Paul was is no rush. He stopped once to buy something to eat, and once for a pack of cigarettes. The big man smoked incessantly. Hannibal fell back a bit to avoid the stench, but if he had wanted to he could have followed the man with his eyes closed, following his trail of smoke. _Gauloises_. It made Hannibal think of Jean-Paul Sartre and, subsequently, existentialism.

.

Paul halted at a warehouse. He took a bunch of keys from his pocket and went inside. As Hannibal neared the door, he could hear it being locked from the inside. He walked on, turned left at the next alley. At the end of the alley, he turned left again, and sought the back of the warehouse. This side of the warehouse was unlit. Perfect for entering unnoticed. Hannibal searched for a window he could force open, and found one pretty soon. He sneaked through the small opening, then quickly, but carefully closed the window behind him.

Hannibal found himself in a corridor, black with the night. He listened, and heard only Paul wandering about. Following the sounds, Hannibal proceeded through the warehouse. He found Paul in an office at the end of the corridor, next to the storage. The door was closed, Hannibal could hear he was making a phone-call, but he could not understand what the man was saying as it was in a language he did not know. He passed the office carefully, hid himself behind some crates and waited.

Paul was on the phone for nearly two more minutes. Then he hung up and left the office. Hannibal heard him coming into the storage. Perfect; else he would have had to follow him. Hannibal left his hiding place and placed himself in front of Paul. He could see the surprise in the man's face. But, more important, he noticed the man's split-second feeling of superiority in strength over him. He would have to be quick if he wanted some answers.

"Hello, Paul. How much did you get for the paintings you stole during the war?"

It was quite amusing to see the big man think, and reach his conclusions, even if it seemed to take ages. Only a slight alteration in stance told Hannibal Paul had decided he would charge, and try to kill him.

"Quite the truculent type, aren't we?" said Hannibal as Paul raced at him.

"Too bad," he said, raised his arms and took Paul by his revers. Then he dropped to the ground, while placing a leg in Paul's groin. As he touched the floor, he rolled back, kicked his leg and threw the man over him in a perfect _tomu-nage_.

Instantly, Hannibal rose again and saw the man hitting a wall of crates. The impact was immense. The stack of crates shook, then tipped over. Hannibal saw the top crate crushing into Paul's chest and he heard ribs crack.

Hannibal walked over to the sorry heap of man and crates. Paul was still alive and tried to push the crate away. He could not. Hannibal perceived Paul would die soon.

"Good afternoon, Paul. How nice to see you are already preparing yourself for hell, as you'll meet your peers in the fourth circle, Dante learns us."

Paul tried to speak, but brought forth a death-rattle merely.

"Please, save you strength for later, you're going to need it. I'll quote a line to illustrate: 'Both rolled on weights, by main forge of their breasts'."

Hannibal smiled at the man, but it was not a friendly smile.

"That's enough good advice for you, Paul. You can die now."

Paul probably didn't hear those last words anymore. His eyes went blank and he ceased to move.

.

Searching Paul's pockets, Hannibal found the man's papers first.

"Lutus, Paul. How appropriate," Hannibal said softly.

He continued his search and found some delivery receipts. It was a collection of chemicals that had been delivered. The addressee was Adam Werth, the address somewhere in Florence. Hannibal had hit the jackpot.

He memorized the address, replaced the papers and left the warehouse through the window at the backside of the building, making sure he left no traces. Miles Davis was on his mind again.


	31. Notes on chapter 21 to 29

_Easter has ended, I hope it has been a wonderful time for all of you._  
_I do apologize for this week's posting; to keep my promiss of posting once a week, I needed to secure some 'air' by posting notes only this week. So this week, it's for the die-hards who like all these little references etc..._  
_Next week, part three will commence: Italy.._

_

* * *

_**Chapter 21**

_as a pigeon flies  
_Pigeons signify Clarice.

_the bridge where police inspector Javert threw himself in the Seine  
_Inspector Javert from Les Misérables, the bridge is the Pont-au-Change in the centre of Paris. This bridge is named after goldsmiths and money changers.

_for quite a long time  
_It has taken Hannibal two years to reach Paris.

_the château_  
The lovely castle of Méridon in the town Chevreuse.

_Polish nobility, the Klossowski family of the Rola coat-of-arms_  
See Hannibal, chapter 54; painter Balthus was of the Klossowski family.

_Rose Sélavy_  
Wikipedia: Marcel_Duchamp; an alias he used. Great artist.

_Alfred_  
The best majordomo's are named Alfred. Ask Bruce Wayne.

_Hannibal nostrils flared shortly as the man passed behind him._  
See Silence of the Lambs, chapter 61; where it was the waiter's watchband that smelled.

**Chapter 22**

_the slightly smoked and crazed mirror._  
See Hannibal, chapter 99; here we find a similar mirror.

_'Le bourgeois gentilhomme' / Jourdain_  
A ballet by Molière, music by Jean-Baptiste de Lully, a satire on attempts of social climbing.

_Maybach SW42_  
Maybach builds exceptional and luxurious cars.

_42 Avenue George V_  
The address of Hermès in Paris.

_bamboo handle bag_  
A famous item by Gucci.

_silk shirts with Italian collars_  
One of the major items from Hermès.

_Rigattieri / Stohrer_  
Two famous shops from Rue Montorgueil, respectively a cheese shop and a chocolaterie.

_dinner appeals to taste and smell_  
See Hannibal, chapter 99; where Dr. Lecter uses these words too, in a slightly different setting, though.

**Chapter 23**

_Titus Andronicus_  
With main theme 'revenge'. And quite a movie, starring Anthony Hopkins.

_Saturn is dominator over mine._  
Saturn is perfect to use – Saturn ate his own son, Saturn links to lead (bullets), etc...

_pound of flesh_  
From Shakespeare's 'The merchant of Venice', which has 'revenge' as a theme also. A pound of flesh is Shylock's bond.

_Milton's 'Paradise Lost'_  
Third mention of free will.

_His mouth turned down like a Greek mask_  
See Hanibal, chapter 53, after Clarice's walk reminds him of Mischa.

_William Blake_  
See Red Dragon. Bizarre and wonderful art.

_D.G. Rossetti_  
Wikipedia: Dante_Rossetti; mind his first name. Illustrated the Vita Nuova by Dante.

_Bechstein_  
A brand of piano's, bought by many royals.

_Theremin_  
See Hannibal, chapter 95; where we learn that Hannibal likes the instrument very much, and that he built one when he was young...

_Liszt's Piano Sonata in B minor_  
Often considered Liszt's greatest composition for solo piano. A difficult piece of music. Liszt lived in Paris for some time. He came into contact with many of the leading authors and artists of his day, including Victor Hugo (chapter 25).

**Chapter 24**

_The frogs had been preserved before the war, in formaldehyde / Professor Bienville_  
Connection with Hannibal Rising

_Carolingian script_  
From the Middle Ages. A whim...

_There was one professor whose lectures on Linear Algebra he did attend._  
My favorite lecture at University.

_Gauss / two of them migrated to the United States_  
Wikipedia: Gauss; this is another link to the US.

_lack of hypothesis / chaos that prevailed in life / an absolute truth / Hannibal wanted truth, and absolutes._  
See Hannibal, chapter 12; Barney's view of Hannibal is not correct. Hannibal played with him, this is the image he wanted Barney to have of him. Chaos, in order to have Barney think of him as something Barney was used to, to weaken his attention.

**Chapter 25**

_from Mr. Hugo's left hand_  
Victor Hugo painted with his left hand.

_the Our Valley painting_  
The Our is a river in Luxembourg.

_Palais du Luxembourg / resemble the Palazzo Pitti in Florence_  
A link to Florence.

_white cabbage butterfly / lovely but fragile creature / he could no longer see it_  
See Hannibal, chapter 53; the garden scene. Reminder of lovely and fragile Mischa he can no longer see.

_La Bocca della Verità_  
Wikipedia: Bocca_della_Verità; tell a lie and your hand will be bitten off…

_the bas-relief of Leda and the Swan_  
See Hannibal, chapter 97.

_Boulevard Raspail_  
Nice coincidence that this boulevard exists, that Hannibal can use it to reach the Seine, that Hannibal thinks it is not the most beautiful boulevard, and it is called Raspail...

_a small scale bronze model of the Statue of Liberty_  
And another link to the US.

_"Love your suit." / Givenchy Université_  
See Silence of the Lambs, chapter 32; Givenchy's first ready-to-wear line, coincidentally with an appropriate name for Hannibal here.

_Guerlain's 'Mitsouko' & 'L'Heure bleue'_

L'Heure Bleue (1912): dusky scent of candies and almond cake bought in an old world apothecary.

Mitsouko (1919): Mitsouko is said to herald the ending of World War I. Mitsouko has the sweet smell of peach preserves and glazed danishes. Since it uses a similarly styled bottle as L'Heure Bleue, Mitsouko was likely composed as warm counterpart to the cool L'Heure Bleue.  
Both are still available.

_black clothes and a balaclava_  
See Hannibal Rising, chapter 25; where Lady Murasaki is on a rescue mission.

_the slender pin wiggle as the burglar's spiked heart tried to keep beating_  
See Silence of the Lambs, chapter 26; concerning the death of Benjamin Raspail. Oh, and of course, I didn't mean those small thingies, but long, Japanese-style bamboo pins.

_Wicker Men_  
Hannibal remembers correctly. See note on chapter 13.

**Chapter 26**

_"Not to be", spoke Hannibal_  
Hamlet, by Shakespeare.

_Amélie_  
A wonderful movie, taking place in Paris.

_Theodore Slutz_  
Wikipedia: Glenn_gould; look for Gould's alter egos.

_Venus of Milo from Miles Davis' Birth of the Cool._  
As the title suggests, the album was the birth of a phenomenon. The song title was simply irresistible to use

**Chapter 27**

_he heard it / He saw the girl / Hannibal caught a whiff / she would probably feel / ..._  
This whole chapter is about (Hannibal's) senses.

_sushi_  
See chapter 4, where Hannibal wanted to know if see-weed could be eaten.

_Mondriaan_  
Wikipedia: Mondriaan; but who doesn't know Mondriaan already?

_the tapestry cycle 'The Lady and the Unicorn'_  
Wikipedia: The_Lady_and_the_Unicorn; truly one of the greatest works of art of the Middle Ages.

_the Licorne, the unicorn_  
Hannibal's horse in Lithuania was called Licorne, which is French for unicorn.

**Chapter 28**

_Leibniz_  
A German, just as Mr. Jakov. A many talented man, like Hannibal.

_"A dropped cup shatters ... the cup to break"_  
See Hannibal, chapter 73; this links Leibniz' philosophy with Hannibal's broken cup.

_Goldberg Variations, by Glenn Gould_  
The 1955 edition, with many variations played at neck-break tempo.

**Chapter 29**

_La Closerie des Lilas / some from America_  
Wikipedia: Montparnasse; a famous café/restaurant in Paris, famous for its visitors, including many Americans.

_It was warm in the winter and the terrace was lovely in the spring and fall._  
Cited from the Closerie website, a line from Hemingway.

_scallops tartare with with lime and eggs of fish / pike quenelles with American sauce_  
On the menu at the Closerie while I wrote this chapter. Mind the _American_ sauce.

_Gauloises / Jean-Paul Sartre / existentialism._  
A brand of French cigarets, linked with the intellectual elite, like Sartre. According to Kierkegaard, existentialism means that the individual is solely responsible for giving his own life meaning.

_tomoe-nage_  
Wikipedia: tomoe_nage; a front sacrifice throw from judo.

_the fourth circle / Both rolled on weights, by main forge of their breasts_  
In Dante's Commedia, the fourth circle of the Inferno is for the avaricious and prodigal. The two groups joust, using their breasts to push weights.

_"Lutus, Paul. How appropriate,"_  
His name can be written as P. Lutus (_plutus_), the god of wealth, that Dante placed at the beginning of the fourth circle in his Inferno.


	32. Chapter 30

_After my notes only last week, here's a brand new real chapter; the beginning of part three, the final part of my fanfic.  
It will only be a matter of days (in the story, that is) for it to reach its finale...  
Enjoy!

* * *

_

**PART 3**

**ITALY**

**Chapter 30**

Hannibal's Indian Chief was pleasure. It was a handsome machine, fitted with large skirted fenders, and quite comfortable too with its sprung frame. A sight for sore eyes. But its appearance wasn't the only reason why Hannibal had decided to buy this bike. It was a majestic beast, loaded with 73 cubic inches. Hannibal had it tuned. A mighty roar inhabited the exhaust. Capable of over 100 mph, it was the right choice for quick transport.

But it would not be a warm ride. Hannibal had dressed himself in his warmest clothes to ride it now. He had anticipated a difficult drive, over 700 miles in the cold air of this December 16th, possibly accompanied by snow. But after an hour, well out of Paris, the clouds with snow had been left behind and Hannibal was greeted by an orange rising sun. The drive turned out to be not that bad after all.

.

Hannibal halted only for gas, his body would have to wait for comfort until accounts had been settled. He had waited all these years for this moment. Personal comfort wasn't an option right now. Hannibal tried to loosen his muscles and joints as much as possible while his bike was filled. Whatever stiffness remained would have to be ignored and suppressed.

While passing the various cities along the way, Hannibal visited his Memory Castle to read and see about the cities, to pass the time. He looked at the painting of Pierre-Denis Martin of the château de Fontainebleau. Now, part of the château was home to the Écoles d'Art Américaines. He knew a wonderful lady there, Rachel DuBerry. He decided to visit her when he had returned.

And while driving by Beaune, he mused on the wonderful wines he had bought at the latest wine auction of the Hospices de Beaune. Sharing one of them with Rachel would be the start of a wonderful evening.

.

Hannibal attracted some attention at the border of Italy. An eighteen year old from Paris, driving a monster of a bike, on a chilly December day, wanting to enter Italy 'for recreational and culinary purposes'. Some of the officers were more interested in the bike, others in the man. They were accustomed to people being a bit nervous, the ease and efficiency this teenager displayed was slightly out of place. It piqued their curiosity, but they could find no reason to refuse him entrance.

.

As Hannibal saw the road signs for the exit to Modena, he was passed by a few cars he recognized as Ferrari's and Maserati's. As they disappeared in the distance, he decided he liked English cars better, like the Aston Martin DB Mark III. He mused on cars while driving the last miles on the highway to Florence.

.

He drove to the address at once, passed by slowly to have a quick peek, then parked his bike in a side-street as the machine itself and its French registration plate were somewhat conspicuous. He walked back, bought a pack of cigarettes at a shop and lounged about some time on the opposite side of the street, pretending to have a smoke. He watched the house, but saw no movement whatsoever. He decided to have something to eat, and then watch the house from the cafe he saw a bit farther down the road.

Hannibal decided not to wade off too far for his meal, and to have it in a small establishment nearby, even if its facade did not supply him with a trustworthy feeling. But it would have to do. To his immense surprise, the dishes served were very enjoyable. Even if the owner, chef and waiter were one and the same person, he managed to serve Hannibal a hearty meal.

The man was quite talkative too, Hannibal did not have to steer him into conversation. He knew and told Hannibal a lot of interesting things about the house he was going to watch, as a part of all sorts of information on the whole neighborhood, its houses and inhabitants. He learned that the owner, a Mr. Werth, had been out of town for two days, but was expected to arrive soon, most probably this evening, since tomorrow would be his birthday, and he always celebrated his extra year with a grand feast, with exquisite catering and guests. Hannibal thanked the man, tipped him generously, but not too, and went to the cafe.

.

He ordered an espresso first, and sat down in a comfortable chair, from where he could see the house and the front gate without rousing suspicion from the personnel or other clients. The sun had almost set, the house was dark on the inside, spotlights outside lit the stone walls. It was only about half an hour later that two cars drove up to the gate, and entered. Hannibal focused his full attention on them. The cars halted and three men got out, accompanied by some women. The group was quite merry and laughed a lot. Hannibal's eyes narrowed a bit when he recognized the three remaining looters. One of the men, who he recognized as Adam, opened the door. They entered the house and the lights inside went on.

After fifteen minutes, the first of many delivery vans arrived. The delivery men unloaded boxes and crates, Hannibal could even see the caterer's name printed on the boxes from where he sat. It had turned into a coming and going of people and goods. It was going to be quite a party tomorrow. Hannibal ordered another espresso after a while, and kept a hidden vigil over the activities across the street.

One van entering the driveway to the house caught his eye. It was somewhat larger than the others, and when it had parked, it was not unloaded but loaded. Hannibal noticed different boxes than the ones unloaded from the other vans. When he saw the driver preparing to depart, Hannibal paid for his drinks and left the cafe. As the van passed by, he noticed the registration plate was from Rome. He stored the number and went to his bike. He went for a hotel to get a good night's sleep. Tomorrow was going to be a fabulous day. No need to rush, since the news of Paul's demise evidently hadn't reached them yet.


	33. Chapter 31

**Chapter 31**

The bed in the tiny room of the small family hotel had been comfortable enough for Hannibal's somewhat sore muscles to recuperate. It did not show in his face, but he was in a good mood. He whistled while he took a long, hot shower that morning, savoring the feeling, and whistled while he ate the breakfast he had ordered from room-service. The girl that brought it was about the same age as Hannibal. She could only be the owner's daughter, she had the same color of eyes and high cheekbones. Hannibal knew at once she was curious to his staying in the hotel, but he decided not to engage a conversation. There was work to do first.

He thanked her politely but briefly for her service and remained standing where he was, holding a banknote he had taken from his wallet. It took her a few seconds before she left the room, nodding her head to thank him.

.

From the phone book at the hotel, he found the address for Vera dal 1926, one of the the names he had seen on the boxes. The city guide he had been given told him it wasn't that far off. He also looked for the other companies, and remembered their addresses.

From the owner's daughter he learned the true sights of the city. All were within walking distance of each other. She also informed him the weather was going to be fine all day. Hannibal would walk and have a relaxed morning and afternoon as a prelude to a precious evening.

.

The visit to Vera dal 1926 hadn't taken much time. Apart from a few authentic sausages he planned on eating for lunch, he had gotten some valuable information from the sturdy maid servant behind the counter. There was no need to visit the other companies anymore, he could visit the city as a tourist instead.

.

He crossed the river Arno and walked the Via de' Tornabuoni and Via del Sole to the Piazza di Santa Maria Novella. The sight of the Basilica di Santa Maria Novella was fabulous with its inlaid black and white marble façade. But Hannibal had come for the famous fresco 'The Holy Trinity' by Masaccio. This _trompe l'oeil_, inspired by ancient Roman triumphal arches and in complete adherence to the perspective discoveries of the time, was a real masterpiece. In it, Hannibal beatified the beauty of early Italian Renaissance. He spent more than half a hour in front of it, marveling at the work of art.

.

Hannibal took the crowded Via de' Cerretani to the east when he had left the church. As he walked along the busy street, part of the Duomo exposed itself to him. It was quite teasing to see the segment, but not the complete building, especially since it was only one of the transepts. As he neared the end of the street, the Duomo slowly revealed itself. It reminded him of a girl he had once been with.

It was a bit of a shame that the sight was blocked by the Battistero San Giovanni. Now, he could only study the full façade from the side. It was neo-gothic in white, green and red marble, and dedicated to the Mother of Christ. Hannibal thought it perhaps a bit excessively decorated. The main portal of the façade was with scenes from her life. It was closed now, Hannibal entered the Duomo by the left portal.

The gothic interior was vast and enormous, corresponding with the austerity of religious life as preached by Girolamo Savonarola. Compared to the façade, the interior appeared bare. He walked the nave of the Duomo and entered the transept. He noticed all people were very quiet. The tranquility of the Duomo had been transposed into them. It made the sensation of the interior even more intense. He perceived all the soft sounds people made. The smell of frankincense, wood, beeswax from the candles and a slight hint of mold filled his nostrils.

As he passed a small altar with a statue of the Mother of Christ, he was reminded of his mother, and her faith. He halted and mused for a few seconds. Then he took a votive candle, placed it among the others and lit it.

.

Once outside again, he walked over to the Campanile. This free standing bell tower of the Duomo by Giotto was also richly decorated and with polychrome marble encrustations. Hannibal was very pleased with some of the hexagonal panels from the first level. He admired the panels on the south side. From the lozenges on the second level, Hannibal liked the planets on the west side the most, except Saturn.

He sat down on a bench in the sun. While looking at the people passing by, he ate the lunch he had brought with him from Vera dal 1926 and felt the sun on his skin. He felt he could spend years here.

.

The Via dei Calzaioli took him to the Piazza della Signoria, with the Pallazzo Vecchio on the eastern side. Hannibal took his time studying the fortress-palace, with its off-centered tower. He swiftly recollected the city guide from his Memory Castle for its information on the building.

It had been built to demonstrate the city's importance and to add security to the magistrates in times of turbulence. But the building itself could be considered turbulent; built on the ruins of the Ghibelline Uberti family so that their homes would never be rebuilt on the same location. A cubical shaped palace, built in solid rustic stonework, with two rows of two-lighted Gothic windows. The tower contained two cells, that had held Girolamo Savonarola imprisoned once. The crenellated walls of the Palazzo gave the impression much blood had been shed here, and as if blood could flow here again at any time.

Much to Hannibal's amusement, groups of tourists came by; their guides reciting the sometimes gruesome events that had passed here, the silly sheep's faces were a delight to watch.

.

After a while, he decided to continue his stroll around the city. He took a last look at the statues in the Piazza, then those in the Loggia dei Lanzi and decided he liked the statues of Perseus, and Judith and Holofernes most. A short walk took him to the Ponte Vecchio, and after crossing the Arno he took the Costa san Giorgio up the hill. It was a bit of climb, but the effort almost didn't affect him. At the roof of the Belvedere he walked over to the parapet and looked north over the Arno. He delighted in the view of the Palazzo Vecchio and the Duomo. A sight worth remembering.

.

Dusk spread as a blanket over the city. Hannibal was hanging about Werth's villa, and as he saw some people walk by, he took off the coat he wore and threw it in the trashcan next to him. Now, in his servant's jacket, he followed the group of real servants. As they rang the bell to the mansion, he greeted them and walked through the gate with them as they were admitted.


	34. Chapter 32

**Chapter 32**

Werth's villa was a nasty building on the inside, especially the servants' quarters where they were now. Modern and cold. No marble, but a concrete floor. No settee, but a vinyl bench. All as stale as the owner's heart.

Hannibal could see the others experiencing the cold, goose bumps appeared on some of their necks.

"Well, I hope it's just this part of the building that's cold."

"Yeah, they're probably trying to cut costs by not warming the servants' part here."

A man had entered the hall where they stood.

"You'll get warm when you work," he said and grinned. "I'm the manager of staff. You can call me Mr. Smith. Hang your coats there, and follow me."

With an alarming glance at each other, they obeyed the man.

"Thank Goodness this is my only day here," muttered the man next to Hannibal.

Hannibal nodded to indicate he acquiesced.

.

Mr. Smith quickly explained to them the proceedings for the evening, showed them the first floor where the party would be held and then left them alone. As soon as the first guests arrived, their work would commence. They had fifteen minutes for themselves and sat down on a bleak bench.

"Cold bunch here."

"Yeah."

"I bet the serving plate will freeze to my fingers."

They laughed among each other. Hannibal played his part beautifully and joined in their merrymaking.

"No sir, there's only whiskey on the rocks," he said in a falsetto voice and holding his arm as if serving drinks.

The others snorted, careful not to be too loud.

"Now, where did he say the toilets were?" he said next, and rose.

"Down there, at the end, on the left."

"Thanks."

As he walked the hallway, his senses were focused to notice anything that might be helpful. All doors were shut but one up ahead. He heard two voices coming from within and strained to hear what was being said.

"Man, that Annie Oakley really was quite a shooter! Fine looking too."

Hannibal recognized the voice. It was Joe. He directed all his attention to that room on the right, he would pass it in a few moments.

Joe's voice slowed down and Hannibal could distinguish every vowel and consonant.

"Yeah, very nice! You know, she traveled with Buffalo Bill through Europe. London, Paris, she went everywhere!"

The room slowly came into view as Hannibal neared the door. The room was full of cabinets and racks, stocked with all sorts of food and drink, even a rack with wines bottles. Hannibal shuddered at the sight of the manhandled wine bottles. The middle of the room appeared, with first the back of a chair, then the back of the man sitting on it. It was Joe. He had aged more than Paul or Adam. His complexion had thinned considerably and his hollow eyes were dull and gray.

"Hey Joe, tell me what are you gonna do?" said the other man in the room and Hannibal remembered the voice.

In Joe's bony left hand was a Buffalo Bill brochure, old and worn. A Nerbini Publishing House monthly of 60 centesimi, as Hannibal read from the cover. In his right hand, Joe held a gun and aimed it at the wall.

"You wanna be like her?" the other man continued. "Wear a skirt and keep practicing!" and a nervous laugh followed.

On the table, discernible now, a box. _"Forced March" cocaine tablets_. Hannibal's heart jumped at the sight.

The other man in the room visible now too. Seeing him confirmed it was Junka.

A moment later, Hannibal had passed the door. He would deal with them in due time. No need to rush, the news of Paul's demise evidently hadn't reached them yet.

.

The party was full on, and Hannibal played his part well. He acted as a real servant. At first, the crowd had been rather stiff. But as the evening proceeded, and Hannibal carried another tray filled with empty glasses to the kitchen, he noticed the slackening of caution. And not only of the guests, but also of Joe and Junka, who had been keeping an eye on everybody and everything. But now they were more interested in the girls standing near the piano. The hired pianist that played the Yamaha - rather well, actually, given the horrendous acoustics of the room - tried to focus on his playing, as the girls chatted and laughed besides him. The time had come for Hannibal to act.

Keeping his appearance as a servant, he walked down the hall towards the kitchen. His senses on full alert, he noticed nobody around and quickly ascended the stairs. Progressing along the rooms on the second floor, he kept very vigilant. Walking with absolute care, making no noise at all, he halted at each door and listened carefully to make sure nobody was inside. If he was sure he heard nothing, he quickly entered the room and closed the door behind him.

.

The first rooms were simple sleeping rooms, most probably for guests. A quick search of them revealed nothing of importance, all cabinets and writing desks were void of anything of importance. Also no sign of a safe anywhere either.

He went into the next room. It was very different from the first ones and looked promising from the start. Lots of filing cabinets right in front of him and to his right. On his left, at the end, a grand desk with leather desk chair and a large reproduction of Dali's "The Disintegration of the Persistence of Memory" on the wall behind the desk. The room breathed business and Hannibal was sure he would do business here too.

Hannibal quickly scanned the labels on the drawers, reading at lightning speed but finding nothing of any importance to him. He hadn't expected to. He walked over to the desk. The deep-piled carpet made walking quietly very easy and was comfortable at the same time. Hannibal felt his shoes sinking into the fibers. He recognized the pattern was much like the pattern in Vermeer's painting 'The Procuress', and smiled.

The desk itself was a work of art. Large and luxurious, with its writing surface completely covered with marquetry. Hannibal's hand went to touch it. He could not feel the seams. A delight to look at, but there was no time to savor the sight.

The first drawer was useless to Hannibal, it was filled with all sorts of stationery. But the second drawer was of more interest to him. It contained a stack of Pee Chee and manila folders. The third folder he investigated held delivery notes of the firm whose truck Hannibal had seen the day before.

He opened the folder and read the first note, which was from yesterday. Hannibal saw the load had been taken to Rome to a storage facility named Maarat, owned by Boemondo di Taranto. As he read the items on the list, a door opened inside his head.

_Hannibal's mother, walking in the drawing room of Giedraičiai Castle, talking to Lothar and pointing at paintings and other pieces of priceless art. She looked sad. Lothar doing his best appearing not to notice it, carefully taking down __Guardi's "View of Santa Maria della Salute"._

And then the door to the room opened and in walked Mr. Smith.

.

Though Mr. Smith did not immediately look in Hannibal's direction, it was too late to hide. Hannibal hopped onto the desk and jumped at the man. The carpet cushioned the impact somewhat, but Hannibal was sure his landing had been heard downstairs. He struck down the repulsive man swiftly, then fashioned his disheveled clothes. This interruption was most unfortunate.

He weighed his chances in a split second and decided to flee the house from a window. As he stood on the window-sill, he heard noises from the hallway, and jumped. It had been a wise decision.

* * *

_While exploring Mr. Harris' work with Demeter, she has introduced me to a new view on the works of Salvador Dalí. Thank you, D!_


	35. Chapter 33

**Chapter 33**

As Hannibal walked away from Werth's house, he thought about the consequences of his discovery and concluded that not having been able to clean up the mess in the room implicated no serious consequences. If Adam decided the open folders didn't matter, he would be able to secure his belongings and return for revenge. And if Adam would recognize the significance, he would meet and deal with the looters there. First, a short rest at the hotel, and then off to Rome.

.

The roar the majestic beast uttered when Hannibal kick-started it did not fail in waking a lot of locals. But Hannibal could not care less. He started off the 170-mile drive with lots of gas, the noise resounding on the hard stone house fronts. The owner's daughter stared at him as he tore away. He had been very kind to her.

.

With the sun rising on his left, Hannibal drove towards Rome. A strange and quickening sensation was in his body. He counted his heart rate and noticed it had risen to ninety. Totally unacceptable, so he restored it back to normal.

If it hadn't been for the occasion, he would have driven slower to enjoy the surroundings more. The gentle rising and falling of the water-like Tuscan landscape was very appealing to the senses. He could smell the earth and vegetation. A bright scent, larded with spicy notes.

There was not a lot of traffic on the road that day, Hannibal did not have to be that careful of irresponsible drivers that endangered the lives of other traffic participants.

He approached Rome at the last hour of the morning, the pines welcoming him to the city as they bowed in the wind.

He recalled some of the city's history. Visiting his Memory Castle, he found Suetonius' works in the library and read about the fire that burned Rome, which Suetonius believed Nero himself had lighted. And he dug deeper into its history and encountered Romulus and Remus, the twin sons of the Vestal Virgin Rhea Silvia, fathered by Mars, the god of war. And from Romulus and Remus his mind crossed the bridge to Castor and Pollux, also born from a woman and fathered by a god.

It was a smooth and relaxing way to pass the time.

.

Now, driving the Via Luigi Petroselli. The last miles to his art.

Passing the church of Santa Maria in Cosmedin. Hannibal looked at the portico while passing by, but could not make out anything inside. It did not matter, he knew what he needed to know.

Only a few more minutes. Via Marmorata.

Closer...

.

Hannibal saw the large sign saying 'Maarat' from afar. As expected, a shady storage facility. In front of the building was a truck, the same one he saw two days ago. Looking at the registration plate as he passed by confirmed it was Werth's truck. No time to lose.

Hannibal parked his bike one street away, out of sight but close by. As he walked back, a car stopped at the entrance to the building and parked there. Three men stepped out. The looters. It was only a slight chance they would recognize him from the evening before, but it was not a chance Hannibal wanted to take. He walked as inconspicuously as possible, all the time keeping his full attention on the men. He saw Werth saying something to Junka, then taking Joe with him inside. Junka entered the office next to the large entry door. A moment later, Hannibal saw him seated in a chair from where he could keep a good vigilance on the street.

Hannibal composed a few lines as he neared the building, having decided a frontal attack would be best, as taught in Yamamoto Tsunetomo's Hagakure.

_The storm of the warpath, now sings in my heart_

_Your pleadings, useless, I now shall disregard_

_I'll leave you to weep and to fear for me_

.

With an innocent smile on his face, he knocked on the window and pointed at the door. Junka looked sternly, but Hannibal pretended not to notice and went for the door. In his peripheral vision he caught Junka's movement towards the door and into his jacket.

The first moment Junka opened the door, Hannibal thrust it open and rushed in. Junka was caught by surprise and easy to master. A tight grip at the man's throat with his right hand, while retaining the right arm with his left hand so he could not reach the gun. He swept the man with him into the adjacent room, which became easier as Junka was losing consciousness because of Hannibal's iron hold.

.

Hannibal washed his hands after tying Junka and taping his mouth. Then he washed Junka's hands also.

He noticed Junka coming to as he manipulated him. Good, not too soon and not too late. Now, this was going to be fun.

"Good morning, Junka. I apologize for my salutation. We have met, but have never been properly introduced. Let's correct that, shall we? My name is Hannibal Lecter. You may remember me and my sister. You ate her. You, and Mr. Werth, and Joe, and Paul. Oh, let me condole you with the loss of Paul as a friend. You ate her, in Lithuania, and you stole my family's valuables from the castle."

Hannibal kept a few moments quiet so Junka could remember and think.

"Now, let's make something clear. You are going to share some of your knowledge with me: you will answer all of my questions by blinking your eyes. Once for no, twice for yes. Do you understand?"

Junka blinked twice, eyes wide open in fear.

"Further; my mouth isn't as large as St. Valentine's, but I can tell if you lie, so this is what we'll do: if you lie, I'll bite off only a finger, not your whole hand. This it what it feels like."

Hannibal took Junka's left hand, and bit off the little finger. Junka tried to scream, but the tape held. A deep grumble was all Hannibal could discern.

"Don't be angry," he said, a bloody smile on his face, "You weren't planning on lying ten times, were you? Are you ready? Here we go. You were with four, correct?"

Junka blinked twice.

"And you ate, among others, my sister."

Junka did not blink, but rolled his eyes away.

"That's not an answer, and I'll take that as a lie," said Hannibal and bit off the ring-finger.

Pain was radiating from Junka's face. A wonderful sight to Hannibal, but not his main purpose right now.

"Did you take the art?"

Junka, with trouble, got himself together as much as possible and blinked twice.

"Is it all here now?"

A frightened look from Junka.

"As far as you know?"

Another two blinks.

"I thought so. Thank you for your honesty, I appreciate that. Are there others, besides you three?"

A short pause before Junka blinked once.

"You appear to be speaking the truth, but you should not try to confuse me," said Hannibal, and taking Junka's hand again he bit off the middle finger.

Junka attempted to scream, but failed and passed out.

"You've been very helpful, thank you. Now, don't move, I'll be back in a few minutes," said Hannibal to the immobile body of Junka and rose. This one clearly wasn't going to cause any trouble, Hannibal had only Joe and Adam to deal with now. Good.

Hannibal went back into the office, licking his lips as he walked.


	36. Chapter 34

**Chapter 34**

There was only one more door in the office. Hannibal got his knife out, held it so nobody would see it from the street, and started for the door. He put his senses on full alert. As he walked, the ticking of the clock on the wall slowed down and became louder. Every second became a whole span of time. The door approached. Hannibal started to lift his hand for the doorknob, then froze. He heard noise from the other side. Someone was approaching.

No time to get away.

No time to hide.

Hagakure.

.

Joe approached the door to the office, holding a box in his arms. He knew yelling for Junka would be useless. He was sure that no good son of a gun would pretend not to hear him. Now, it was going to be difficult to get the door open. Balancing the box on one knee, he managed to turn the doorknob. He was high on coke. Obstacles like this nibbled at his already minimal patience. He was eager to get on with it.

.

As soon as the door moved - it had probably swung in only a fraction of an inch - Hannibal kicked it. It hit the man behind it, Adam or Joe, and closed again. A collection of crashing sounds flooded Hannibal's ears, even now the door had closed. He stepped towards it again. Judging by the sounds, more than the man could have carried had fallen, and would immobilize him. He opened the door.

.

Joe sat down on the floor on his ass. The box had cushioned the impact of the door, but all its contents had spilled on the floor and almost all of the jars and glasses had broken. Boxes, drums and cases had been stacked along the wall. Joe had bumped into some of them and tipped them over. Joe sat bewildered, looking at the flotsam and jetsam in front of him, feeling his pants getting wet with the fluids on the floor. The door opened.

.

Joe was not immobilized.

_Au contraire._

Hannibal saw him merely sitting behind a pile of rubbish. Their eyes met.

Joe was fast. Hannibal saw the quick reflexes of the man doing their job. A hand rose, sliding into his jacket, going for a pistol. It would be suicide to approach him. Back to the office. He took a step back and sideways and heard Joe screaming.

"Here's some lead for you!"

The next moment a shot fired, but Hannibal was safely out of the way.

More shots followed as the door clicked shut.

.

Joe fired his pistol several times, but the kid had already disappeared.

"Shit!" he shouted.

He wanted to get back on his feet and looked down for support. But instead of finding that, he saw the rounds that had been ejected from his pistol. They were still smoking from the heat of the firing and the fluids on the floor approached them.

"Shit!" was what he said, but the sound of the chemicals catching fire drowned out his voice.

.

Hannibal heard the sound of fire from behind the door and very shortly after, Joe vociferating in a horrific way. He had caught fire, then. Great, and not great.

Right now, entering would be foolish. But what then?

.

Adam had heard the noise and was going to check what happened, when he heard the shots. He immediately pulled his gun and started to run. About halfway, he heard an agonizing screaming. Something was terribly amiss. He ran on and as he neared the office, he saw and smelled the smoke coming from down the hall. He now recognized the voice of Joe in the incessant wailing. He slowed down for the last corner, just to be sure. When he looked around it, he saw only Joe, on fire, like a living torch.

.

Standing besides the door, Hannibal heard Joe, his howling changing as his vocal chords were damaged by the smoke and heat. This was very unfortunate. How was he ever going to get even with him now?

Behind the door, the fire was blazing. One of the boxes that had caught fire had been burning long enough, and had been warming in the flames. The temperature inside reached the critical level for its contents. It exploded.

Hannibal was very fortunate the wall he was standing against was sturdy. The explosion blasted the door out of its hinges, the wall itself remained intact, and Hannibal was knocked over by the sudden shock. It took him a few moments to get to his feet again. He shook his head to lose the slight feeling of dizziness. His ears were somewhat numbed by the blast, but that was not why he didn't hear Joe anymore. Joe had stopped screaming.

.

Hannibal carefully looked around the corner. The mess he had seen before was nothing compared to the devastation laid out before him. Everything was somewhere other than where it should have been. Nothing was in place anymore. It was a complete disorder, with fires blazing all over the place.

Walking among the trash, his knife ready, it took Hannibal a few moments to discern the remains of Joe among the scraps and fragment of things. He approached them, and saw that Joe had been burning indeed and had been blown to shreds then. Hannibal smelled the flesh burning still, it infested his nose. Twelve-and-a-half year old memories were scratching at their doors in Hannibal's Memory Castle. But Hannibal kept their doors shut, and created an image of the smoldering parts of Joe in front of them, based upon the _Poster Kleine Dadasoirée Haagsche K.K._ by Theo van weren't many sounds in his Castle, but Joe's screaming reverberated in this room, a constant, agonized cordon.

.

The wall to the office where Hannibal had left Junka behind had been blown down. The wood had been thrown all over the place, its impact had devastated whatever it had met, including Junka. His head had been bombed with a fragment of timber and had turned into a bloody mess. Hannibal smiled briefly at the memory of the man's misery a few moments ago.

.

But no sign of Adam yet.

He knew not where Adam had been. But he had to assume he was unharmed and ready to appear at any moment. So Hannibal advanced carefully.

Avoiding the mess on the floor, he proceeded step by step. Looking around for any sign of his adversary, listening for any sound that might disclose his whereabouts. He noticed his heart-rate had risen to nearly a hundred.

It was difficult to be sure, with all the noise the fires were making, but it seemed he could hear something. A few more steps, then. The sound emanated from the left. Breathing, moaning.

The first thing Hannibal saw was a foot. But it was motionless. Then he saw the blood on the floor. Had all his waiting been in vain?

.

Hannibal went a few feet further, and recognized Adam. The blood was emerging from his right leg. The man was breathing, alive! But the blood was still flowing freely.

Hannibal walked up to the man and quickly applied a tourniquet to the leg, using a piece of cloth he found nearby. A quick scan revealed no further major injuries, but Adam had lost a lot of blood. And that might finish him first after all. He needed to attend to him somewhere. Hannibal lifted the man in his arms and carried him away from the burning building. Adam was safe from the fire, but in Hannibal's safe-keeping.

.

Hannibal went to the back of the building to make his exit, to avoid the people who were bound to be staring at the front of the building. His time had come finally. Ideas and memories were having a ball in his head.


	37. Chapter 35

**Chapter 35**

Hannibal reached the Indian. He lay Adam on the ground next to it and searched the man's pockets. Then he changed his bloodied clothes with fresh ones from his bag. His face was not as serene as usual. Good thing the place where he had parked was out of sight.

He walked back to the storage facility. Quite a crowd had gathered to watch the burning building. Hannibal walked over to the truck. It was in front of the facility, but on the other side of the road. It was unharmed. Hannibal got in, started it and drove back to Adam.

A quick search of the truck revealed it was empty, except for some standard equipment for loading and unloading. He drove his bike up an improvised ramp, into the truck, then secured it. He lifted Adam and put him in the back as well. He drove off, his shifting causing the gearbox to protest loudly.

.

Images and words were creating chaos in Hannibal's brain. A cacophony of bony concoctions was doing its utmost best to disembowel his usual mental dominion.

.

The radio was on. "Schubert," the man on the radio said, "Gruppe aus dem Tartarus."

.

_His mother was saying some things to Lothar, then turned to him. "Hannibal, come with us." He walked over to her and took her hand. Together, they walked over to the drawing room. Lothar followed, talking to her. There was a touch of unease in his voice. His mother's voice as steady as ever._

_They walked around the drawing room. Mother pointed at the paintings and sculptures. Lothar took some of them down, as Mother told him to. Some of them were very nice pictures. Bight colors and deep shadows. "They are lovely paintings, aren't they?"_

.

Hannibal nodded.

A bump in the road and the truck's leaf springs squealed in dissent. Hannibal saw places where the bricks were completely missing, the bare earth visible.

.

_The men ordered them to dig. The pain in his arm was terrible, he could not block it. The men brought them halfway the lodge and the barn. The two other children had to dig, they told him to move the earth to the reeking stool-pit. His arm protested, but he had no choice. He took the earth._

.

The streets he was driving through were getting livelier. Shops on both sides. Maybe not the best shops, but they would do. Hannibal parked and entered one of the stores. No time to lose.

A tiny bell announced the new customer. Within seconds, a man came from behind and asked if he could help him. The sound of the bell was still audible to Hannibal.

.

_Hearing the harsh sounds of the hard consonants echoing off the walls. Hannibal enjoyed the space his voice revealed. Aaron's words to Tamora._

_**.**_

It had been no problem to buy the salt, sesame oil and parsley. But the man had to be coaxed into selling him one of the display plates. A nice number of bank-notes did the job. Hannibal had to hurry, Adam was in a terrible state, but he needed privacy.

.

He drove the truck slightly over the speed limit, looking intently for an isolated place. His heart jumped somewhat when he saw one. Driving the truck down the broken down road, Hannibal hoped his preparations had not been in vain. A few trees clustered together. Splendid. The truck would be almost invisible there.

.

_Hannibal handed his mother the rope hackamore. She put it on Licorne and led the horse outside. Hannibal took his little sister's hand and followed his mother. A moment later he heard the Akita rise and follow._

.

"Mr. Werth. We've met before. And since it was some time ago, you might not recognize me. And we weren't properly introduced then anyway. So, let me introduce myself now."

Hannibal was sitting on his bike sideways, looking at Adam on the floor of the truck next to him. He had not moved or died. He was conscious, but pale and weak. The man's breathing had turned stertorous. Hannibal knew he had very limited time with him.

"My name is Hannibal Lecter. You ate my sister. You ate her, while you were in Lithuania with Joe, Junka and Paul. And you looted my family's castle."

Adam's answer was hard to understand, his voice was rather unsteady.

"Lithuania... Yes..., " then he groaned somewhat before he continued. "Cold. We were trapped.... Damn those days."

"You stole the art. You ate my sister! Didn't you?"

Hannibal took the man by his lapels and lifted him somewhat. Adam did not seem to respond to Hannibal moving him.

"Jackpot... So many paintings..."

"Where is the art now?" Hannibal yelled at him.

It took some time before Adam spoke again, the effort draining his final reserves.

"Art? … Maa.. Maarat."

"All? Junka thought everything was there!"

"All... Buyer tomorrow..."

"What about my sister? What about Mischa?" cried Hannibal.

Adam no longer responded, or talked. He no longer breathed either. The last looter had died.

.

As Adam's death registered, Hannibal dropped the man on the floor. His hands, first dangling in the air, went up. Hannibal gripped his hair and cried bitter tears. A frail, thin scream escaped from his lips and for a short time, he rocked to and fro. His grip almost ripped hairs from his head.

It took some time before he loosened his hold. His eyes had a new shininess in them no-one had seen before. Only some would see it later. Only a few of those would survive and remember it.

.

Hannibal continued talking to Adam, but the conversation became _de facto _a monologue.

"It is such a shame we were not able to finish our wonderful conversation, I really would have liked to settle the account with you. And it would have been so nice to regain possession of my belongings. But now the art is gone."

Hannibal opened the bag he had bought in Rome and placed its contents on the floor next to Adam. He smelled the sesame oil he had bought, then added some salt to it. Now it was perfect. Hannibal could smell the sea.

"You are not able to repay what is due to me. But I won't demand Shylock's bond, since Shylock did not get what he wanted. May I quote something else from Shakespeare? It's from Titus Andronicus:

_Vengeance is in my heart, death in my hand,_

_Blood and revenge are hammering in my head._

Though Aaron is eventually captured and judged, he had his way in his days. I will follow his lead."

Hannibal decided to add the fresh parsley at the end and kept it in the bag. He took his knife and looked at Adam.

"By the way, do you like Japanese cuisine? I just love Ikizukuri and Rebasashi. Too bad there aren't that many opportunities to procure these dishes. Sometimes we just have to make do with what we have."

.

As a true _garde manger_, Hannibal had handled the ingredients with care. The plate looked as if done by a food stylist. Symmetrical slices of raw liver at six o'clock, some parsley at two, and a small bowl of sesame oil at ten so it would be easier to dip.

"Hm, I must say, Mr. Werth, this does look fabulous!"

Hannibal did not turn to the remains of Adam as he addressed him, but kept his eyes on his meal and smiled.

Delicately taking a bit of the liver, Hannibal dipped it in the oil and brought it to his mouth. His nostrils flared slightly at the scent of blood and sesame. He savored the rich flavors for some time before swallowing.

"My, my, Mr. Werth. That was absolutely fabulous. You know, too bad you are not Prometheus. Your liver is quite excellent and suitable for repetition."

Hannibal was delighted and took another bite.

* * *

_And so, with the death of all looters, part 3 (Italy) ends. But not yet the end of the story: A prologue and notes on chapters 30+ will follow._


	38. Epilogue

**epilogue**

A tender breeze from the east is blowing over the Atlantic Ocean, creating long, slow waves that meet, melt and separate. Their tranquil movement is transferred onto every ship that dares to sail its seemingly endless expanse. People on such an occasional ship react differently to the heaving, rolling, pitching, or whatever motion may occur. Some enjoy its sensation and feel free, others get seasick and vow never to set foot on a ship again. But all experience the biting feeling of the salty air on their skin. Sitting on deck in the sun, they feel it burning on their wet hide.

.

Here, out on the wide ocean, sounds are primarily restricted to two elements. The water rushes, flows and crashes. The wind blows, gales and torments. No sand crunching under your feet, no rocks tumbling down. No fire to run from, howling behind you. You're surrounded by these two elements only and it's a bareness not many care for, men nor animal. Not many ships around here. And we don't hear any birds, they always remain within a few miles of land.

.

The Faraday Seamounts are about as far away from land as you can get crossing the ocean from France to the United States in a straight line. They are about halfway. It would be useless to turn around once you reach this point. You'll see only water all around you. Let's be honest: when you sail at a place like this, you're not thinking about turning back. You'll be looking forward. Some homeward bound, some going for a new world.

.

It's the summer of 1959. A brigantine, carrying passengers of both category, sets off from France. It's New Zealand registered, christened Boyd, and bound for Provincetown in Cape Cod, Massachusetts, USA. Its two masts are beautifully rigged with new sails, bright white. The ship itself is also in excellent shape, so it's only logical for the sails to be likewise. It's a ship for the adventurous wealthy. If you have the money and the time, sailing this ship is an excellent way to pass time and distance - provided you don't mind an occasional rough ride.

On deck, we see several people. It's a calm sea and the sun is slowly nearing the horizon. We can see a few passengers sitting in a chair. Two are standing side by side at the bulwark, looking out over the sea. Seems the couple is lost in thoughts, transfixed by the seeming endlessness of the ocean.

.

The captain is having a walk on the deck. He exchanges a few greetings or words here and there. He joins our couple, takes a place next to them a few feet away.

"Seeing the sun set like that never dulls," he says.

The couple turn their faces and nod.

"I hope the journey is as pleasant as anticipated?"

"Yes it is," the young lady says. "Very pleasant."

The young man next to her nods at the captain in agreement.

"Excuse me for asking, but I can see an engagement ring on your finger, Miss. And since you're sailing together, I assume you're getting married in America? A new life in the New World?"

The young lady and man laugh.

"You're very observant, captain. True, I'm wearing an engagement ring. And since we are traveling together, it would seem the right conclusion, but you did not observe he's not wearing an engagement ring. Mr. Lecter here is my traveling companion. We are merely enjoying each other's company."

"Oh, I'm sorry. I hope you don't mind?"

"Not at all, Captain," the young man spoke in a gentle voice. "Allow me to introduce ourselves. Please, meet Miss Rachel DuBarry."

The captain and Miss DuBarry shake hands.

"Good evening, Miss. I'm Captain John Thompson, but since I'm the captain, I'm sure you already knew that. Delighted to meet you," he said and took her hand shortly. Then he offered his hand to the young man.

"And I am Hannibal Lecter. Nice to meet you," the young man said.

"Nice to meet you too," the Captain spoke and looked at the pair.

A few seconds passed before Rachel continued the conversation.

"Will we arrive on time with such a gentle breeze, Captain?"

"No need to worry, Miss. Nervous we might be too late for your wedding?" the man jested.

"Only a little. And it's only me. You know, it doesn't matter to him," Rachel said and looked at Hannibal. "He graduated Summa Cum Laude, and John Hopkins Medical Centre in Baltimore contacted him to offer him a job even before he had graduated. I'm sure they'll wait for him instead of hiring someone else."

"Summa Cum Laude? That's worth a congratulation!" said the Captain and offered the young man his hand.

"Thank you. But I'm afraid Ms. DuBerry is slightly erring. My professor called Baltimore and recommended me to them."

"Nevertheless quite a feat, young man. You should not make light of such an achievement! And don't forget to thank the Lord for his gifts."

A bell rang from the bridge of the ship.

"I'm sorry, but it seems my help is needed. May I invite you both to dinner at my table this evening?"

"We'd be delighted," said Miss DuBerry and smiled at the Captain.

"Ms. DuBerry, Mr. Lecter," said the Captain, tipped his hat and left them.

.

The couple remains standing at the bulwark, looking out over the ocean. The sky is turning red from the setting sun. Some people think it's the color of blood, but blood is actually much darker. No need to speak. Many days lie ahead that can be passed with conversation, or something else. They are entertaining themselves with their own thoughts right now.

Hannibal's thoughts are swift, and multiple. They are different strings in his mind. They flow the same way, sometimes alone and sometimes together, always interacting and differentiating. It's not possible for us to follow his thoughts. But we can try to understand them fragment-wise. Get hold of some shards, read them and place them in an order comprehensible to us.

.

There is no more Giedraičiai Castle. And the art that was saved - though for avaricious reasons by Mr. Werth and his assistants - was now gone also. His family is dead. The people he grew up with; Nurse, Lothar, Ernst, all dead. Lithuania is no longer home for him.

Uncle Kristijonas and Aunt Rose are dead. He is the sole surviving Lecter. The château inherited by Aunt Rose's children had been sold. The heirs are still fighting over the money, challenging every aspect of the will.

The things he has brought with him, are things he needs. He has only utilitarian items in his luggage.

.

It was a chance meeting that had brought him on the track of the looters. He had been given the opportunity to get even with the men who killed and ate his sister, and stole the family's art. But what had that brought him? Was it perhaps possible the result might be classified as a bathos?

Paul had died so unprepared. Hannibal could still enjoy the comparison to Dante's Inferno he made then, but true vengeance had slipped through his fingers like sand. The man met his demise without knowing why, only with a slight idea by whom. Hannibal does not indulge much in regret, but it was a shame.

.

Junka. Hannibal had spent a few entertaining moment with him. Even if he was only going along with the rest, a hanger-on, he deserved to be punished. He ate his sister too. Just like Joe. Hannibal quickly visits the tableau he had created with him. Yet, steak should be rare, perhaps some like it medium rare, but never charred. This all is very disappointing.

.

_Mother called Mischa and put her on Licorne. Mischa walked over to her mother, who lifted her on the horse with a broad sway that brought forth a round of laughter from the little girl._

_._

The leader of the pack, Mr. Werth, should have lived longer. Why did the wound received at Maarat have to be fatal? Mr. Werth's liver proved to be of outstanding quality, that was luck. Nevertheless, his death had been beyond Hannibal, just like the others. It was as if revenge had been purposefully denied Hannibal. He met the men but had to watch their lives fly away from him, taking away the pleasure of being able to retaliate. Meet and greet, not bleed.

.

His mother had been a devout woman. She had believed in God. She had believed in a loving and caring God. He had never heard her complain about Him, not when war came upon them and they had to leave the Castle. Not when she heard of all the horrors. Hannibal's mental capabilities are unmeasurable, yet he could not understand God.

God had not given him his revenge. He had done as He pleased, not what Hannibal had wanted. If that's what you see, you might postulate that it does not matter what you do. If God wants something done, He'll do it, no matter what. So why not do as you please?

.

Hidden under the dome of his skull is Hannibal's Memory Castle. Immense in size, complex in construction. Ever since its foundation, Hannibal has added rooms to it, sometimes reconstructed whole wings. And even after all of those changes, he can find his way in there with his eyes shut. Sometimes he even does that, enjoying the sensation of not seeing, only sensing the spaces surrounding him, from time to time exploring the objects he has stored with his hands instead of with his eyes.

Now, he remembers walking in the garden with his mother and Mischa.

.

_"Hannibal, lead Licorne. I will walk here and hold Mischa. Let's circle around the garden."  
Hannibal nodded, took the rope and started walking. Licorne gently followed, with Simonetta next to him and the Akita behind him. It was barking. The door was kicked in. Joe stepped inside and the dog broke loose and went for him. Joe was faster and shot the dog. It yelped and fell. Joe shot the dog again as it lay on the floor. The man lay face down on the path. It was a soldier. His uniform had a deep red stain. Hannibal's father checked the man's pockets. He read some papers he had taken from the man, pocketed some of them. He saw the man was named Paul Lutus, and smiled at the appropriateness of his death. He continued his search and found some delivery receipts. A collection of chemicals. The addressee was Adam Werth, the address somewhere in Florence. It was a nasty building on the inside. As Hannibal walked the hallway, his senses were on full alert. All doors were shut but one up ahead. The room slowly came into view as Hannibal neared the door. The room was full of cabinets and racks. On the table, a box. __"Forced March" cocaine tablets. __A stale fetor filled the corridor. Hannibal could hardly breathe and he tried to find his way back. But he lost his way. The door he opened led him straight to the oubliettes. One was filled with excrements, like a stool-pit._

_._

Hannibal's high-pitched cry pierced the silence. Rachel looked at him and put her hand on his shoulder. She knew this was the only support he allowed, and only from her.

* * *

_At the end of our journey, I'd like to greet all my fellow passengers, and thank them for the conversations aboard. I hope you've had as pleasant a journey as I have. I would like to thank two persons specifically, since they have been very helpful in sailing this brigantine. My two masts:_

_Duffie, you're absolutely the first. Your proofreading has improved my writing very much, and your comment has also helped me improve the story itself, even if you think otherwise. _  
_Your SVM fanfic is very special, and I enjoy reading it a lot. There's a specific fluency and relaxed atmosphere in your writing that I like a lot._  
_The mails we have been exchanging are special to me._

_Demeter, you're not second, not a runner-up, but you are the second person I'd like to thank. We've been having (and looks like we'll be continuing them) wonderful conversations on all sorts of subjects, and I feel my horizon has expanded since we met. I appreciate Dalí's art more than ever.  
Goedemorgen juffrouw Annie, doe mij maar koffie met vijf suiker. Maar niet te hard roeren, ik hou niet zo van zoetigheid.  
_

_A final remark: I am busy doing research for a next fanfic. Since that part of writing is essential to me, it might take some time before I start posting something new. It will be on a side-character from Hannibal (no, I won't say who now), I thought it would be interesting to see what the data we've been given in Hannibal would yield, and what we could extrapolate from it. I'm sure you all will be able to discern between these two when reading my fanfic._

_God bless you all._


	39. Notes on chapters 30 to 35 and epilogue

_This is the final installment for 'Anniba!'. It contains my notes on chapters 30 to 35 and the epilogue. Thanks for reading and staying with me!_

**Chapter 30**

_Indian Chief  
_An _American_ bike, as fancy and brutal as could be at the time, as a contrast to HR's BMW.

_until accounts had been settled  
_Another reference to Shylock's bond from Shakespeare's 'The Merchant of Venice'.

_(Castle of) Fontainebleau  
_Wikipedia: (Palace_of_)Fontainebleau; a town near Paris, with many private grandes écoles and the castle that was the home for kings, which now holds the Fontainebleau Schools. A town, known for _proper_ education.

_Hospices de Beaune  
_A former charitable almshouse. An important charity wine auction is held in November each year.

_Modena / Ferrari's and Maserati's / he liked English cars better / Aston Martin DB Mark III  
_Modena homes the houses of Ferrari and Maserati. Even though they make great cars, the doctor prefers English cars, as we learn in Hannibal. Jaguar. Bentley. Oh, and later we learn about _Maybach_. I think he would like Aston Martin also.

**Chapter 31**

_fresco 'The Holy Trinity' by Masaccio  
_A Renaissance fresco, considered a revelation of Brunelleschi's principles in architecture and the use of perspective.

_Girolamo Savonarola  
_See Hannibal, chapter 17. Just a reference to link 'Anniba!' to the Hannibal trilogy.

_the lozenges on the second level … Saturn  
_Saturn is referenced in 'Anniba!' quite often, to indicate the looters. That's why he dislikes that particular lozenge.

_He felt he could spend years here / as if blood could flow here again at any time.  
_This comes true when Hannibal revisits the city in the book 'Hannibal'.

_the statues of Perseus, and Judith and Holofernes  
_Perseus: A statue of a decapitation, depicting the dripping blood very accurately.  
Judith and Holofernes: See Hannibal, chapter 19, when the Doctor first defends his position as curator. Judith defeats Holofernes at dinner: she gets him drunk and chops off his head. Remember Paul Krendler?

_At the roof of the Belvedere … the parapet ... looked north … a sight worth remembering  
_See Hannibal, chapter 20, when Rinaldo Pazzi is on the roof of the Belvedere, and looks at his city.

**Chapter 32**

_No marble, but a concrete floor. No settee, but a vinyl bench.  
_A reference to Demeter's excellent fanfic 'Mentor'. I could not resist (sorta) quoting from it.

_Annie Oakley  
_Wikipedia: Annie_Oakley. Quite a shooter, and from Americe. Like Clarice. And she travelled with Buffalo Bill. And maybe I'm wrong, but wasn't Clarice once compared to Annie? Even if not: Clarice is quite a shooter also.

_Buffalo Bill  
_Colonel William Frederick Cody, from America. And also a reference to SOTL, of course.

_Nerbini Publishing House  
_In Florence, of all places...

_"Hey Joe, tell me what are you gonna do?"  
_The song 'Hey Joe' is by Jimi Hendrix.

_Dali's "The Disintegration of the Persistence of Memory"  
_Since I had such a wonderful discussion with Demeter on art and possible links between Dalí and the Hannibal trilogy, I wanted to use some Dalí in my fanfic. This painting was used here to represent the duality in Hannibal's mind: immeasurably clever but distorted. The melting watches are very Hannibalish also. I'll leave the rest of the links for you all to find out.

_reading at lightning speed  
_See Hannibal, chapter 74, where Hannibal performs this feat again.

_deep-piled carpet / shoes sinking into the fibers  
_See Hannibal, chapter 7, where we read about Paul Krendler's professional habitat. He's not a field man.

_Vermeer's 'The Procuress'  
_Quite a _lewd_ painting form the otherwise restrained painter Vermeer. The use of Vermeer is of course derived from Barney's fascination with the painter. The use of the painting in my fanfic while describing the room of the looters conveys some of that lewdness to them.

_Pee Chee folders  
_A common American stationery item in the second half of the 20th century. Another link to the US.

_Maarat / Boemondo di Taranto  
_From wikipedia: During the First Crusade, after the Crusaders, led by Raymond de Saint Gilles and _Bohemond of Taranto_, successfully besieged Antioch they found themselves with insufficient supplies of food. Their raids on the surrounding countryside during the winter months did not help the situation. By December 12 when they reached _Ma'arra_, many of them were suffering from starvation and malnutrition. They managed to breach the city's walls and massacred about 20,000 inhabitants, as they often did when they captured a city. However, this time, as they could not find enough food, they resorted to _cannibalism_.

**Chapter 33**

_Majestic beast  
_The title of a song by Amorphis, one of my favorite bands.

_The pines of Rome  
_A 1924 work by the Italian composer Ottorino Respighi.

_Romulus and Remus / Castor and Pollux  
_Both twins born from a male god and a female human.  
Romulus and Remus founded Rome, where Hannibal is at that moment, Castor and Pollux were born from Zeus and Leda, whose intercourse is mentioned in Hannibal, chapter 97.

_the church of Santa Maria in Cosmedin / the portico  
_The place where the original 'La Bocca della Veritá' can be found. We encountered another 'Bocca' in chapter 25.

_Yamamoto Tsunetomo's Hagakure.  
_A guide for a warrior, a collection of commentaries by the samurai Yamamoto Tsunetomo. I took this line from the movie 'Ghost Dog: The Way of the Samurai', where this book was used.

_The storm of the warpath […] and to fear for me  
_Lyrics from the song 'Weaving the incantation' by Amorphis.

_tying Junka and taping his mouth / answer by blinking eyes  
_Now, who did not recognize the resemblance to Pazzi's end in Hannibal?

_my mouth isn't as large as St. Valentine's / I'll bite off only a finger, not your whole hand  
_A reworking of the fact that in the church of Santa Maria in Cosmedin, where the Bocca can be found, the flower crowned skull of St. Valentive is kept. Hm; coincidence (?): Valentines for Clarice in SOTL, chapter 4.

**Chapter 34**

_"Here's some lead for you!"  
_The element associated with _Saturn_ is lead.

_Poster Kleine Dadasoirée Haagsche K.K. by Theo van Doesburg  
_I am very fond of dadaism, and I think this poster is a true masterpiece.

_His head had been bombed with a fragment of timber and had turned into a bloody mess.  
_Refers to chapter 15, where Nurse's head received the same treatment. I have tried to describe Junka as a hanger-on, someone not truly belonging to the group. Nurse was not a member of the family, but one of the household.

**Chapter 35**

_Schubert's "Gruppe aus dem Tartarus."  
_Last reference to Saturn. All of them on a row:  
- The element associated with Saturn is lead;  
- December 17th (birthday of Adam) is the feast of Saturnalia;  
- Another side to Saturn and its ruling sign Capricorn: the settling of accounts;  
- Schubert's 'Gruppe aus dem Tartarus' (Group from Hades) - from the mythology of Saturn, we learn that Saturn was either castrated or sliced into a thousand pieces with his own sickle and cast into the darkest and deepest part of Tartarus, the underworld.

_Ikizukuri / Rebasashi  
_ikizukuri=fish sashimi, "prepared alive", from a living fish  
Rebasashi=slices of raw liver

_Prometheus  
_Wiki: Prometheus; Zeus punished Prometheus for his crime by having him bound to a rock while a great eagle ate his liver every day only to have it grow back to be eaten again the next day.

**epilogue**

_A brigantine, New Zealand registered, christened Boyd / Captain John Thompson  
_Wiki: Boyd_massacre; which took place in 1809, when local Māori killed 66 people at Whangaroa, a northern New Zealand harbour, in revenge for the crew's whipping a Māori chief's son. The massacre is among the most famous instances of cannibalism and one of the bloodiest mass killings of non-Māori in New Zealand's history.

_Provincetown in Cape Cod, Massachusetts, USA  
_Wiki: Cape_cod. In 1620, the Pilgrims signed the Mayflower Compact when they landed here. This is Dr. Lecter's first visit to the US, a new life, therefore he enters like the Pilgrims. The word Pilgrim also refers to Red Dragon, where Dollarhyde is called Pilgrim.

_A new life in the New World  
_Refers to Hannibal's remark to Rinaldo Pazzi in chapter 19: '_La Vita Nuova?_', and America, of course.

_Hannibal does not indulge much in regret, but it was a shame.  
_See Hannibal, chapter 38. Sort of quoted Mr. Harris here, since it's one of the few bits of information we directly receive on Hannibal.

_steak should be rare, perhaps some like it medium rare, but never charred  
_Demeter noted on chapter 34 that if a burned Joe could not satisfy Hannibal's need for revenge, nothing could. I asked her how she liked her steak.

_It was as if revenge had been purposefully denied Hannibal.  
_I think that's what drives Hannibal 'mad'. If he had his revenge, why would he still be killing people? I always found that a weak spot in HR. And 'purposefully' refers to a Divine being, God, who would have denied him that. As we read in the Bible: Vengeance belongs to the Lord (DEUT 32:35, PSA 94:1).


End file.
